Searching for Disaster
by Shadow Rebirth
Summary: ABANDONED. Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was not amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. [AU, no pairings.]
1. Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived To Have Iss

Title: Searching for Disaster: The Boy Who Lived To Have Issues  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 2,595  
First Written: July 12, 2008  
Last Edited: July 14, 2008  
Posted: July 12, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.  
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This work has not been endorsed by J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, Warner Bros., or any of the others holding copyright or license to the Harry Potter books, movies, and products. No connection is implied or should be inferred. Other names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author receives no financial gain from its production or distribution.

--

A/N: Warning, this contains a very cynical Harry Potter. Why? Because I'm interested in seeing how that type of character would handle the HP world. Don't like, don't read. Also, I just want to let you all know that this is a sort of spur-of-the-moment story that will most likely have sporadic updates. It's kind of like practice writing how different actions and attitudes change the plot for me and as such I'll honestly be surprised if I go too far with this story. I'll try to make it as long as I can though.

The other warning that I have is that this story _will_ be AU, and not just because of Harry's actions. I'll be adding a more realistic tilt to the whole HP world, which will drastically change some events. Those of you who have read the "Troll Incident" chapter of my story _Realism: Breaking Clichés_ will have some idea of what to expect.

As for the title of the story...Honestly I was at a bit of a loss for what to call it at first, but I was listening to _Sick Puppies _while writing this chapter and the line "What is it I'm after, searching for disaster, watching my whole life flash in front of my eyes" from their song _Cancer_ kept coming back to me, so I decided to name it after that. I'll change it if I think of something better, but for now I like it.

--S.R.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 1  
_The Boy Who Lived To Have Issues_

* * *

A ten year old Harry Potter grunted as he shoved open his bedroom door with one shoulder. Walking slowly he began to head down the stairs, just barely peering over the large cage in his hands so that he wouldn't trip, fall, and break his neck. Not that his relatives would care beyond have to take care of his body, but he _liked_ living, thank you very much.

As Harry reached the bottom of the stairs his aunt paused as she passed from the kitchen into laundry room. Her nose was wrinkled and her face was screwed up in an expression of disgust. This face was actually quite normal for her though, and Harry was privately toying with the idea that she'd had some freak accident in her youth that had frozen the expression on her face.

"What is that god-awful smell?!" Petunia screeched while taking several steps away from Harry and the cage in his arms. "Don't tell me you killed another one!"

Harry spared a moment to glare at his aunt. "I did not kill it," he snapped back. "It was just defective, like all those others."

Harry huffed in annoyance and then continued on his way through the kitchen and out the back door. He finally stopped near the back where he set the cage on the ground and pulled out a shovel that appeared to be quite well-used. Without pausing he began to dig a shallow whole in the ground.

Lined up along the fence to Harry's left were close to twenty small mounds of dirt. To an observer they would look disturbingly like graves, and for a very good reason: They _were_ graves.

You see, in Harry's world there were three truths that he lived by. The first was that he hated his relatives and his relatives hated him. That's how things had always been and he had no desire whatsoever to change it. The second was that the world sucked and that Harry didn't care that it did. It's just way things were, so why try to change it? In his opinion the world was full of a bunch of morons and he had no reason to want to fit in with them in anyway.

The third truth was the one that applied to Harry's current situation: Harry couldn't keep a pet to save his own life. Without fail every single pet he'd ever had had died within a week. It wasn't that he was negligent and didn't take care of them or anything, they just...died. For no apparent reason. At first he'd been upset about it, but by the time the fifth had died he'd just been amused. At this point he was trying to find a pet that could survive his care. Until then the rest were just defective.

Once Harry had finished burying his latest pet--a guinea pig named Freddy--he headed back inside and deposited the empty cage with his room. Harry's room was the smallest in the house, but he didn't really care. He didn't need much space and besides he was rarely "home" anyway.

For the first half of his life Harry had actually slept in the cupboard under the stairs. Then he'd grown up, learnt that most people didn't sleep in cupboards, and threatened to report his relatives to the authorities if they didn't give him a bedroom of his own. They'd caved rather quickly.

From that point on Harry had learned that the best way to get his relatives to agree to his demands was to threaten them with things that would make them appear to not be normal in the eyes of their neighbors. It was rather easy and he'd only had to streak through the neighborhood once (after all, what kind of people raise a boy who streaks?) to make his relatives realize that he'd follow up with whatever he'd say he'd do.

After that life had become much easier. The only problem left had been that his cousin still tried to bully him at school, but kicking him in the nuts a couple times had been more than enough to dissuade the bully of such actions. The following detentions had been more than worth the results.

Of course even once his cousin had started leaving him alone, the other children still didn't want to play with him. Any other child might have been upset at this, but Harry had been rather happy at that particular turn of events.

Heaving a sigh Harry left his room and headed back down into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat before leaving. As if by fate, right as Harry passed by the front door the mail slot clicked and several envelopes dropped to the ground. The young boy would have just left them there for someone else--most likely his aunt--to pick up, but for sight of his name written in green ink on one of them. Out of pure curiosity Harry picked up the envelope. He regretted it a second later.

_Mr. H. Potter  
__The Smallest Bedroom  
__4 Privet Drive  
__Little Whinging  
__Surrey_

Harry raised an eyebrow as he read the address. How the hell did the sender know how big his bedroom was? Was this from a stalker or something? And just what kind of a sicko would stalk a scrawny ten year old boy?

Unfortunately, Harry's damned curiosity refused to let him just drop the letter and continue on his way. He struggled with himself for a moment before finally tearing open the letter and scanning the first page.

Instantly Harry let out a snort and then promptly ripped the letter into several small pieces, which he tossed into a wastebasket standing nearby. Not only was the letter from a stalker, but a deranged one at that. Honestly, magic? Couldn't they be a little bit more realistic than that?

Harry would have been happy if his life had just continued as normal following this strange incident, but unfortunately that was not to be.

The next day a heavy knock came at the door right around lunch time. Harry would have completely ignored it, but the sound of his aunt let out and ear piercing scream and slamming the front door shut caught made him curious. After all, anything that could frighten his nasty, nosey aunt like that deserved his attention.

As Harry quietly crept downstairs the knocking came again. Petunia was huddling, terrified, in one corner of the living room, so Harry waltzed up to the front door and pulled it open while ignoring Petunia's pleas to leave it closed.

And then blinked.

No wonder his aunt had screamed. Standing in the doorway was a man larger than anyone Harry's had ever seen before. Considering as he lived with his Uncle Vernon, a whale of a man, that was quite a feat. The large, hairy man stared into space several feet above Harry's head for a moment, as if surprised that no one was there. Once his eyes finally fell down to where Harry was, they widened once more.

After a moment of stunned silence shared between the two of them the large man's mouth suddenly split into a wide grin. "An' here's Harry!" he boomed. "Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

Harry stared blankly at the stranger. What the _hell_?

"...Who the fuck are you?"

The man looked startled by Harry's language, but he quickly forgot it as another smile broke across his face. "Right! O' course! I haven't introduced meself. Rebeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

Hogwarts, now that sounded familiar. Where had he...? Oh, right. The stalker's letter. Harry promptly slammed the door in "Hagrid's" face, much to the relief of his aunt. Without another word he turned around and walked back upstairs.

Fortunately the man did not bother Harry and his family again. Instead, the next morning they had another, different visitor, who came while Harry was out of the house. When he arrived back at the Dursley's in the middle of the afternoon there was an older woman who looked like she'd recently swallowed a lemon sitting in the Dursley's livening room with his relatives. Both Vernon and Petunia looked as though they'd rather be anywhere else.

As the front door swung shut behind him the older woman smiled warmly at Harry and he suddenly felt a deep sense of foreboding. The young boy gave his relatives a questioning glance, but they both avoided his gave. Shit, what had they done now? He hoped desperately that they hadn't sold him into the slave trade for extra cash or anything like that.

Finally Harry's uncle cleared his throat loudly. "Er, right. Harry, this is Professor McGonagall. She's the Deputy Headmistress at your new school."

Harry stared blankly at his relatives. "New school?" he repeated monotonously.

"...Yes. It's a private boarding school up in Scotland."

Harry's expression didn't change. Both he and his relatives knew that his grades weren't good enough to get into any boarding school, let along a private one.

McGonagall coughed, gaining everyone's attention. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," she said in a prim voice. "As your uncle said, I am Professor McGonagall. The school that you've been enrolled in is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Suddenly everything clicked into place in Harry's mind. The letter, the gigantic man, this woman, his relatives' nervous expressions...It was all clear now.

"So you _are_ a human trafficker."

McGonagall stared at Harry with an expression akin to that of a deer in headlights. She must not have expected him to catch on so quickly, Harry reasoned. After only a moment, however, she was able to recompose herself. She threw a glare in the direction of the Dursleys for whatever reason before turning back to Harry with a patient expression on her face.

"No, Harry," she said gently. "Magic _is_ real and you are a wizard, just like your parents were. Haven't you ever made something happen, something you couldn't explain, when you were angry or scared?"

Harry only considered the question for a moment. "No. Not really."

The older woman froze, as if unable to process what he'd said. Once she'd once again gathered her wits, however, she simply sighed and pulled out a thin stick of wood. She flicked it while murmuring under her breath and suddenly a vase that had been sitting on the mantelpiece was floating in the air. Of course, Petunia immediately went into hysterics, pleading for McGonagall to put the "priceless heirloom" down.

For several long moments Harry just stared at the vase. Then he shrugged.

"Alright. When do we leave?"

Once again McGonagall was frozen with surprise. She blinked dumbly at Harry several times.

"...That's it? You're just going to accept it like that? You're not going to ask for more of an explanation?"

Harry shrugged again. "You made a vase float," he replied. "Am I supposed to deny that I saw that? And as for the explanation, I'm sure that you'll explain everything, right?"

"Er...right..."

"So then, when do we leave?"

* * *

Harry scanned Diagon Alley with a raised eyebrow. This had to be the strangest place he'd ever been. Owls, cauldrons, _pointed hats_? It seemed as though all the stereotypes of witches and wizards were true.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

Harry released a sigh as he followed Hagrid--the large man he'd met the day before--through the Alley. Once Professor McGonagall convinced him of the reality of the wizarding world and explained it to him, she'd dumped him into Hagrid's hands, saying that the large man would help him get his school supplies. And thus here he was, apparently on his way to get money from the wizarding bank.

Harry had to admit that seeing the goblins inside the Gringotts was a pretty cool experience. They were rather nasty characters, it seemed, but Harry figured that he'd be just as moody as them if he had to spend all day around people who wore robes, rode brooms, and thought that toads were good pets. Speaking of which, he'd have to check out the pet store later on...

When Hagrid pulled out a golden key that apparently unlocked Harry's vaults however, the young boy's mind instantly grinded to a halt.

"Woah, woah, woah," Harry said whiling holding up both his hands. "Why do you have my vault key?"

Hagrid blinked in surprise. "Er, Professor Dumbledore gave it to me."

"Dumbledore? As in the headmaster of the school? Why the hell did _he_ have my bloody key?"

Hagrid stuttered for a couple of seconds, causing Harry to roll his eyes. He clearly didn't have an answer for him.

The rest of the shopping trip was...strange...to say the least. Harry was in complete disbelief about several of the items on school's list of required items, dragon-hide gloves in particular. If dragons actually existed then why where wizards skinning them? Shouldn't there be laws protecting them or something?

The pinnacle of the trip came went they went into Ollivanders to get Harry a wand. Hagrid claimed that this was where the best wand maker was, but the inside of the shop was so dusty and disorderly that Harry had trouble believing him.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice from the back of the shop. An old man with pale eyes shining like twin moons stepped out from the shadows. Hagrid jumped in surprise but Harry just stared at the wand maker, wondering where he could get eyes like those.

"Ah yes," the man said before Harry could even speak. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question.

Harry repressed another sigh. Was this whole world filled with stalkers or something? _Everyone_ seemed to know his name.

The experience of getting a wand--or "having a wand choose him", as Ollivander put it--was odd and quite tiring. The fact that Ollivander seemed to be exciting himself more and more with each wand he pulled out only made Harry become quite wary of the man. He felt as though the wand maker was going to jump him at any moment.

As soon as he'd finally received the "right" wand, Harry paid for it and then hightailed it out of the shop as fast as he could before Ollivander could get a word in edgewise. Only once they were far away from the shop did Harry finally come to a stop. He then spun around on his heel to face Hagrid and gave the man a firm glare.

"Alright," he snapped, "That's it! Everyone's been treating me really bloody strangely. What's the deal?"

At first Hagrid just stared at the young wizard in confusion, but after a minute he seemed to come to a realization. He glanced around nervously and then motioned for Harry to follow him. He silently led Harry through Diagon Alley, back into the Leaky Cauldron, and got them a private table. Then, finally, he spoke, telling Harry in hushed words about what had happened to his parents.

When Hagrid finished his explanation Harry could only stare blankly at the man. This went on for several minutes until Hagrid began fidgeting nervously. Finally Harry's head dropped onto the table with a dull clunk and he began grumbling under his breath.

It was a good thing the wood muffled his words, because otherwise his profanities would have had Hagrid blushing like a little girl.

* * *

A/N: And that's the first chapter. A little short, but I should hopefully have the next chapter out soon. Oh, and case people didn't pick up on this: Harry hasn't met Draco Malfoy yet since this trip is probably about a week or two earlier than the one in the canon; it isn't even Harry's birthday yet.

I'm honestly not sure what house Harry will be in yet. It definitely won't be Slytherin though--Harry's not particularly ambitious nor exceedingly sneaky. Thoughts and recommendations, anyone?

Please review to give me feedback!

--S.R.


	2. Chapter 2: World of Lunatics

Title: Searching for Disaster: World of Lunatics  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 3,605  
First Written: July 12, 2008  
Last Edited: July 14, 2008  
Posted: July 14, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 2  
_World of Lunatics_

* * *

September 1st found a very unhappy Harry Potter standing in the middle of King's Cross train station. He had been told by Hagrid to come here to catch the Hogwarts Express. Of course Harry had instantly questioned where the train was since he'd certainly never heard of it before and Hagrid had then explained how to get onto the platform.

The reason for Harry's current disposition was that he was going to have to run through a _solid brick wall_ to get to platform nine and three-quarters. He knew that it was the only way to get to Hogwarts, but despite this every bone in his body protested what he was going to have to do. If Hagrid had tricked him, Harry was going to hunt down the man and _kill_ him.

Finally Harry released a breath, tightened his grip on the cart before him, and then ran at the wall. He only released his breath when he'd passed all the way through and found himself standing on another platform. Standing before him was a large red steam train with the words "Hogwarts Express" on it.

"Honestly," Harry grumbled under his breath in annoyance as he walked forward. "Who came up with _that_ bright idea? 'Oh, I know!'" he mimicked in a high voice, "'Let's run into walls!' Bloody insane."

Harry only calmed down a bit once he was securely on the train in an empty compartment. And even then he was still in a bad mood.

"If this is a flying train, I swear I _will_ jump off it," Harry muttered sourly to himself. Unnoticed by him, his compartment door which someone had just been starting to open clicked shut.

The wizarding platform slowly grew louder and louder and more parents and students came. Harry was disturbed a couple of times, but all of the other students left once they saw that the compartment was occupied. Finally, after over a half an hour, the train left the station.

In his compartment, Harry couldn't help but feel at least a little excited. He was going to get to learn magic after all, as absurd as that sounded. Plus, this was the perfect thing to hold over his relatives heads; just what would people think if they learnt that their nephew was into _witchcraft_.

Unsurprisingly, the ride to Hogwarts was quite boring--though, thankfully, the train never left the ground. Sadly, the highpoint of the trip was when an older witch came by with a food cart and asked him if he wanted anything to eat. Harry took one look at some of the "treats" offered and instantly declined. Chocolate frogs? Cockroach clusters? _Seriously_? How would either of those sound appetizing to _anyone_?

Eventually Harry drifted off to sleep, only to awake that evening when the train grounded to a halt. He'd forgotten to change into his robes earlier, but fortunately there was enough chaos outside as the students got off the train that he was easily able to do so before leaving himself.

Harry's mood--which had brightened considerably since that morning--dropped a couple of notches when he saw Hagrid wading through the crowd, calling first years to him. He knew that the large man worked at Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected to have to see him again so soon. Reluctantly Harry approached Hagrid and the other eleven year olds. He hung at the back of the group however, so the large man was unable to spot him.

"C'mon, follow me--any more firs' years?" Hagrid called. "Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Harry's eye began to twitch as Hagrid led them all down a steep, dark, narrow path. So wizards could perform feats of magic but they couldn't even put stairs and a couple of lights here for their first year students? Typical. And no one had explained yet where the rest of the students had gone. Was there some sort of an initiation blood ritual that first years had to go through first? At this point, Harry wouldn't be surprised.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" as the path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side was a vast castle with many turrets.

Harry stared at it, entirely unimpressed. He did live in England after all, and so had see castles many times before; his relatives hadn't been able to leave him behind _all_ the time and his primary school had taken several field trips to famous castles. Hogwarts was large, yes, but not really all that great.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sittings in the water by the shore.

Harry stared at those boats with a look of horror plastered across his face. No. _No_. They couldn't honestly be having groups of _eleven year olds_ cross that massive lake in tiny boats. Were they completely _insane_? What would happen if one of the boats capsized? Most of these children probably couldn't swim!

"All right there, Harry?" Hagrid asked, noticing Harry's violently twitching eye.

"Fine," the dark haired boy bit out through gritted teeth. "Absolutely bloody fucking peachy."

"Er...right," Hagrid replied, looking more than a little awkward.

Harry forced himself to mechanically walk forward towards the boats. He stepped into one of them at sat at the bow where he proceeded to purposefully ignore the three other first years that joined him. As the fleet of little boats moved off on Hagrid's command, Harry glared at the water beneath him.

About half way through the trip the water near the center of the lake shifted. At first it seemed to have just been the wind disturbing the water, but after a moment a long tentacle at least as thick as a tree trunk broke the surface and rose at least fifteen feet in the air before slithering back down into the depths.

Several of the children screamed fearfully at this sight but Hagrid was quick to calm them down. "It's alright," the large man chuckled. "That's jus' the giant squid that lives in the lake."

The tic in Harry's eye returned as stared at the inky black surface of the lake. Oh yes, "just" the giant squid that lived in the lake. Just the giant squid that lived in the lake next to a _school_. Just the giant squid that lived in the lake that several dozen first years were crossing in rickety wooden boats that could capsize at any moment.

That was it, this was officially a world filled with lunatics. Did they have to regard whatsoever for their students' safety? Even assuming that the squid was trained or something, it was still a wild animal.

Harry's gaze turned thoughtful. Speaking of which, weren't giant squids salt water animals? How could it even survive here? And surely the lake was too small for a creature of its size--it must need more space than _that_ to swim around in. Plus Harry was pretty sure that squid lived only in deep ocean waters; wouldn't this be far to shallow, as well as small?

This place was just getting stranger and stranger and Harry didn't like it at all.

Eventually the students got to the castle and were led out of the boats and into the lower levels of the castle. They stopped before a huge, oak front door which Hagrid promptly knocked on. Harry was honestly surprised when the door didn't tremble beneath his strength.

The door swung open at once, revealing Professor McGonagall. Harry eyed her strangely; had she been just standing there on the other side, waiting for them? It seemed to Harry that she, like everyone else here, liked to make a grand entrance. God, he hoped that the whole wizarding world wasn't like that, but after everything he'd seen already he didn't want to get his hopes up.

McGonagall led the first years through the massive entrance hall of the castle and then into a small chamber off the main hall. Harry had to stare strangely at her again. They had that huge room right outside, but they had to wait here? What if some of them were claustrophobic? Damn crazy wizards.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said as the first years shifted nervously. She then launched into a lengthy speech that Harry stopped listening to after the first few lines. He instead stared off into space, waiting for this "Sorting Ceremony" that she'd mentioned.

Once McGonagall left the students began whispering nervously amongst themselves, wondering what the ceremony would be. One kid even mentioned something about wrestling a troll, which gave Harry pause. Normally he'd instantly dismiss such a notion as being completely and utterly ridiculous, but considering what he'd seen so far...

Harry was only broken from his thoughts when a rather short boy with platinum blonde hair swaggered up to him. Or at least Harry thought the boy was attempting to imitate a swagger. In reality he just looked like he was drunk.

"So," the boy said in an arrogant tone that greatly reminded Harry of his cousin, "I've heard that Harry Potter is here this year. You're him, right?" Immediately the voices around them hushed as people leaned in, eager to learn whether or not this was their "savior".

"No," Harry replied with a completely straight face. "I'm Vlad Tepes the Fourth. Son of Count Vlad Tepes the Third."

The blonde hesitated, suddenly looking awkward. "Oh, er, sorry," he stuttered. He quickly regained his composure. "Well then, it's honor meet you, Tepes. I am Draco Malfoy, of _the_ Malfoys"

Before Harry could reply a girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth pushed her way to the front of the first years. She glanced between Harry and Draco before here eyes settled on Harry.

"Vlad Tepes the Third?" she questioned. "Isn't that the historical name for Count Dracula?"

Instantaneously all of the first years around them drew back while staring at Harry in shock and not a small amount of fear. Harry, meanwhile, was torn between being pissed at the nosy girl for ruining his private joke and thanking her for telling everything. Hopefully no one would bother him any more, now that they believed him to be the son of Dracula. It was too bad that only children were this gullible.

Unfortunately--or fortunately, depending on how you look at it--McGonagall returned before Harry had a chance to decide how he felt about the bushy haired girl's intervention. "From a line," she told the first years, "And follow me."

They first years dutifully did so and Harry found himself, thankfully, at the back of the line. At least this way no one would try to talk to him. The line was lead back through the entrance hall and into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair above five long tables--four for the students and one for the teachers. Above them Harry was able to see a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. For a moment he gaped in shock, believing that the castle had an open ceiling, until he heard someone whisper that it was just bewitched to look like the sky outside.

Grudgingly Harry had to admit that the bewitched ceiling was pretty cool. He still thought that it could be impractical though; for example, what about the students who were afraid of lightning? Wouldn't the ceiling only make their fear worse since it'd look as though there was nothing between the hall and the sky?

Harry's attention back brought back to the ground when McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool sat a dirty and frayed pointed wizard's hat. Harry silently sighed. It figured that something as inane as this would be the test. Granted, he still wasn't quite sure what the test _was_ yet.

For a few seconds there was complete silence has everyone stared at the hat, waiting. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like and mouth and the hat began to sing.

Throughout the long, drawn-out song Harry had to fight to keep from bursting out in laughter. A singing hat. They had a _singing_ _hat_. He'd thought that magicians pulling rabbits from top hats had been hilarious, but this really took the cake.

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished it's song. Harry didn't join in. McGonagall then stepped forward with a long roll of parchment--seriously? They were using parchment to write on? Harry desperately hoped that they didn't expect students to use it; having to use _quills_ to write with was bad enough as it was--and instructed them to come up and put on the hat when she called their names.

Harry completely tuned out the sorting and instead allowed his eyes to roam over the teacher's table. There were several relatively normal-looking witches and wizards among them, but a large amount were quite odd as well.

'_A woman with bug-eyed glasses,_' Harry thought with a mental sneer. '_Wonderful. A midget. What does he teach? Considering as it looks as though he's been hit with a shrinking charm, I really hope it's not charms. A man with a turban...Jumpy, too, it appears. Heh, he kind of reminds me of a squirrel. A woman with...Are those __**vines**__ on here hat? What the __**hell**__? ...A man with a hooked nose. Well doesn't he just look like bloody sunshine and daisies. But knowing this world he'll be the resident doctor or something._

_'Let's see, who else...A strange old man with even stranger robes. That must be the headmaster and stalker extraordinaire. Damn, he looks like one creepy old man, especially with those weird twinkling eyes. He really must be a stalker. That's it, if he ever uses one single endearment on me I'm out of this place as quickly as possible. After all, you hear stories about those sorts of sicko teachers on the news all the time._'

Harry was so deep into his musing that he didn't hear his name the first time it was called. People began to whisper and look around, as if wondering if he was missing.

"_Potter_, Harry!" McGonagall called a little louder. She was staring straight at Harry.

The young wizard blinked in surprise and then shrugged. Nonplussed, he walked up to the stool, sat down, and placed the hat onto his head. His last his thought before his view of the Great Hall disappeared completely was, '_I hope none of the kids before me had lice._'

"_**I**__ don't have lice,_" a voice said dryly in his mind. For a moment Harry wondered if he'd finally snapped and gone insane before he remembered the hat on his head was a talking hat.

'_...Right,_' Harry replied instead. '_But how can you be sure. You can't, erm, look inside yourself, right?_'

The hat paused, considering Harry's words. "_True, but I think I'd notice if bugs were crawling all over me._"

'_Feel? You can feel, as in physically? Do you have nerve endings or something? 'Cause otherwise there's no way for yo--_'

"_Alright, alright,_" the sorting hat interrupted grouchily. "_Let's just get to the sorting instead of debating my state of existence, shall we? Now let's see...Hmm...You've got quite an, er, interesting mind. I'm not entirely sure where to put you..._

"_Ravenclaw is entirely out of the picture as you have no interest in the pursuit of knowledge. You're not Gryffindor either. Though you can be quite brave, it's only when it suits you. You also wouldn't fit in Slytherin as you prefer bluntness to being wily and have no real ambition beyond survival. As for Hufflepuff, well, I shudder to see you in the house of those who are honest and patient. You will doubtless terrify all the younger years, piss off the older ones, and cause no small amount of chaos_

"..._Unfortunately, however, being a hard worker is the only quality that you have in spades and none of the other houses would fit you at all. I-- I hate to say this, and most certainly fear the repercussions, but it would seem there is only one house in which I can place you. Better be _HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hat shouted the last word to the entire hall. Harry took off the rather annoying hat and strode confidently over to the cheering Hufflepuff table while quietly pondering the hat's words. Chaos, hmm? Well _he_ certainly didn't mind chaos.

Harry almost immediately noticed that several people were reaching out to try to shake his hand as he walked by. Harry skirted around them all and took a seat at the very end of the table. Honestly, what was it with these people? Boy-Who-Lived or not, he was still just an eleven year old kid.

As soon as the sorting had finished Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He beamed down at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have please him more than to see them all. This, frankly, was quite creepy. He was an old man, after all, and they were a bunch of kids.

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down and everybody clapped and cheered. Harry just stared, openmouthed. _This_ was their headmaster? Not only was he creepy but he was completely insane! Not that that was out of the ordinary in this world, apparently.

Harry was almost beginning to wish that he'd run away from the Dursleys at the first sight of that weird letter.

When Harry looked back down at the table, he found himself once again surprised: The dishes were now piled with food. When had that happened? He was really going to need to get used to this magic stuff before all these surprises gave him a heart attack. Did this school have no concern for its so-called "muggle-born" students?

Finally Harry just shrugged and began to pile his plate with food. There was no use getting upset over things and if there was one thing that Harry had always been really good at, it was adapting. Or at least, adapting when _he_ felt like adapting.

To Harry's great annoyance the people around him immediately began to try to talk to him. He'd have thought that him choosing a seat at the end of the table would have been enough of a hint that he didn't want to socialize, but apparently not.

"Didn't you say that your name was Vlad Tepes the Fourth before?" the first year girl across from him asked in confusion. The older students around them looked on curiously, clearly recognizing the name.

Harry had to repressed a vicious smirk; now _here_ was the perfect opportunity to get all these children off his back. The young wizard straightened up in the seat and began to eat somewhat pompously, like he'd once seen in a movie.

"That's because it is my name," Harry replied seriously. "Didn't you know? I was adopted into the Tepes family."

The Hufflepuffs around him gulped and glanced at each other nervously. Harry only just barely stopped himself from snickering. Suckers.

"But-- but, you--" an older student stuttered. Harry turned his flat gaze on him and the boy began to fidget. "I mean--...Vampires...You're not...?"

Harry smirked, but not widely enough to show his canine teeth. Keeping them guessing would be so much more amusing--for him. Offhandedly Harry wondered how long he could keep this charade up before they all realized that he was bluffing. They'd probably be pretty pissed when they found out too.

Oh well.

Harry would have continued tormenting his peers had he not caught sight of someone walking by their table. Or rather, floating by. A tic developed in his eye once more and Harry turned his gaze back to his meal.

Ghosts. They had _ghosts_ here. This time he wasn't going to even comment.

Once he finally got the other Hufflepuffs to leave him alone, Harry allowed his eyes to sweep over the Great Hall. Eventually they landed on the teachers' table, where the professors were amiably chatting amongst themselves.

Then something happened quite suddenly--a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on his forehead. Harry flinched and then rubbed his forehead. Damn, all this noise was starting to give him a headache.

At last, when the desserts had disappeared from the table, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The entire hall fell silent and the older man began a long speech about all the rules of the school, which Harry then promptly ignored. The young wizard's eyes narrowed, however, when the headmaster mentioned that the third-floor corridor was restricted to "everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death". He didn't doubt for a moment that this was true; leave it to this wacky _school_ to have something that could kill people within its walls. Harry made a mental note to avoid that corridor at all costs.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiled had become rather fixed and he once again felt foreboding well up within him.

Just what _had_ he gotten himself into?

* * *

A/N: Eh, I got this out quicker than I'd expected. But then, I'm having a lot of fun writing this story since I'm basically giving my sarcastic side free reign in writing it. Thanks for all the review for the last chapter. It was interesting to read your thoughts on the different houses. In the end I chose Hufflepuff for the reasons that the hat mentioned--particularly because it'll cause the most chaos. It seemed as though most of you agreed with a Hufflepuff as well though.

For those of you who believed that Harry would have done well in Ravenclaw, let me just say that I agree with you. The problem is that, while Harry is intelligent, he has no real interest in actively seeking knowledge. He'll do so if he feels like it, but other than that he could care less. That's why his grades aren't all that great, but aren't horrible either, although that stems more from him just not giving a damn about what others think.

And if you haven't noticed yet, why _yes_, I _am_ going to be using this story to pick at the HP canon's many, _many_ plot holes. The giant squid is just one example of this (seriously, that doesn't whole situation make any sense even if you add magic into the equation). As I'm been writing this story I've been using the HP book as a reference and this has caused me to come to one unavoidable conclusion: HP is riddled with plot holes. I mean, I already knew that there were a ton, but I'm literally finding different stuff in every. Single. Chapter. It's sad, really.

Oh, and one last thing: Which canon characters do you think would get along with this Harry? Ron and Hermione are just about completely out of the picture because I still can't understand how they could be friends with the canon Harry, let alone this more cynical version.

Please review to give me feedback!

--S.R.

--

Rant: One thing that's always bothered me is the part of canon when, during the feast Harry's scar hurts and then Harry immediately suspects that Snape had something to do with it. Seriously? Yes, he _had_ been looking into Snape's eyes at the time, but magical world or not, that not realistically going to be your first thought. You'd probably think that it was a headache or a muscle twinge or something, unless it was reoccurring. Instantly suspecting that someone's causing it is like suspecting that someone has a voodoo doll of you every time you get a cramp. Completely and utterly fucking unrealistic.


	3. Chapter 3: Squibs, Brooms, and Midgets

Title: Searching for Disaster: Squibs, Brooms, and Midgets  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 3,467  
First Written: July 14, 2008  
Last Edited: July 17, 2008  
Posted: July 17, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 3  
_Squibs, Brooms, and Midgets_

* * *

Over the next few days Harry's mood slowly deteriorated more and more. Anyone would have been the same in his situation, and he didn't have much patience to begin with.

"There, look,"

"Where?

"The one where glasses."

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Harry really was at his wits end and was beginning to regret his decision to come here with every passing moment. The only upside was that no one ever approached him directly--it seemed that word about him having been adopted by Dracula had gotten around. Most of the upperclassmen didn't believe this, of course, but it terrified most of the younger years.

Harry also quickly found himself annoyed with the school itself. There were over a hundred and forty staircases and Hogwarts. _One hundred and forty_! And they moved around, so it was nearly impossible to remember where anything way. The worst part, however, was that they didn't give the new students any maps or anything. The school was like a bloody maze, they didn't give them maps, and yet they still expected all of them to be on time? These people truly were insane!

The classes, at least, were somewhat interesting. He still didn't see the point in transfiguring a match into a needle though, and no one seemed to have an answer for him beyond, "we have to start small". Honestly, if they were going to teach them stuff like that, the least they could do was _explain_ properly.

Plus, the small amount of classes struck Harry as strange. What about math, science, geography, and other such subjects? When were they going to learn how to write better--they _were_ only eleven after all--and other such basic things that were taught in Muggle secondary schools. They weren't even going to be taught about wizarding culture or laws for God's sake! They were just expected to pick it up as they went!

Harry didn't even know what wizarding children were taught before they came to Hogwarts. _Were_ they even taught? Considering that the wizarding world seemed to be stuck in the fifteenth century, Harry wouldn't be surprised if they were all home schooled in only the basics.

Lunatics, the lot of them.

Wednesday was easily the most interesting day for Harry. This was because Hufflepuffs had Double Potions with the Ravenclaws, first thing in the morning. He half dread going and half was eager to go because Snape, the potions professor, had been throwing nasty glares his way the whole week. Harry wasn't sure what he'd done to the man, but then he didn't remember most of what he did to people.

When Harry was making his way down to the dungeons--dungeons? Why did they have _dungeons_ in a _school_? Castle or not, it had apparently been built to be a school, so their existence didn't make sense--he ran into Hagrid. The massive man beamed down at him.

"'ello Harry," Hagrid greeted. "How's your week been so far?"

"Er, fine," Harry replied while trying to edge around the large man. He didn't seem to notice.

"By the way, where's Hedwig; I 'aven't seen her round here," Hagrid questioned. Harry gulped.

Contrary to popular belief, Harry wasn't a heartless bastard. He just generally didn't give a damn about what people thought about him, which caused him to come off as brusque and ruthless. Hagrid, however, had been nothing but kind to him despite his attitude and Harry wasn't entirely sure how he would react if he learnt the owl's...fate.

Plus he didn't want an enraged giant of a man chasing after him--he probably wouldn't survive.

"She, uh, flew off," Harry answered nervously, desperately hoping that Hagrid would believe him.

Hagrid's brow furrowed in confusion. "Flew off? But aren't owls trained not to-- Harry? Harry? Where'd you go?"

Far off down the hall Harry let out a relived sigh. Good, he'd managed to distract he groundskeeper enough to slip away. He'd have to be careful to not run into the man again.

Once Harry got to the potions classroom he quickly chose a seat in the back and waited for the lesson to being. Snape entered the room at the very second that the class was to begin. His black robes billowed around him as he walked, and couple with his hooked nose, greasy hair, and swallow skin, it caused him to greatly resemble a vampire. Harry wondered if he could get the professor to teach him how to do that; it would solidify his identity as Vlad Tepes.

Snape, like most other teachers, started the class by taking roll call. When he reached Harry's name he paused and a cruel smirk crossed his face before disappearing as if it'd never been.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Harry twitched. '_Yes,_' he thought, '_But only so long as __**you**__ people fucking __**make**__ me one!_' On the outside however he only stared coldly at the dark man. What kind of a professor said a childish thing like that?

Snape moved on with the roll call and then went into a lengthy speech about how much better potions was than the rest of the classes. When the man went on about "foolish wand-waving" Harry briefly wondered whether or not he was squib.

"Potter!" Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood."

Harry stared blankly at his professor. "I have no idea."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer as if he'd just won some great victory. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Well _duh_, Harry wanted to point out to him. Fame was just people knowing who you were. How could that affect what _you_ knew?

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Once again Harry stared at Snape. He couldn't be serious about this could he? Whatever Harry had done to the man, it surely couldn't have been bad enough for him to be vindictive like this, could it?

"An Apothecary?" Harry answered, this time taking a wild stab at the question. This _was_ a potions class after all, and most of the ingredients came from the Apothecary.

Snape snarled angrily. "5 points from Hufflepuff for your cheek, Potter!" he snapped.

Harry twitched again. What. The. Hell. All he'd done was answer the damn question!

"One last question," Snape sneered. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Harry bit out between ground teeth. This man was a complete and utter bastard! How the hell had he ever become a teacher?!

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

"Why no, _Professor_," Harry finally snapped. "I'd been under the impression that I'd be learning from _teachers_, not books."

Snape positively glowered at him. At that moment Harry knew that the man would make his life miserable whenever he could. He knew that there was no way that he'd be learning much of anything in this class, and that he'd probably fail regardless of his skill.

Mentally Harry shrugged. He didn't see what was so great about potions anyway.

At that point Harry had two choices. One, he could walk out of the class right then and there and save himself the trouble of dealing with Snape. Or, two, he could stay in the class and have the time of his life tormenting Snape. As much as he'd love to do the latter, doing so would loose him a lot of points for Hufflepuff house. And while _he_ didn't really care about the points, the rest of his peers did and Harry wanted them to leave him alone, not despise him and booby-trap his bed at night.

Unfortunately, it just wasn't realistically possible for him to spend his time annoying Snape. Harry released a sad sigh and then began to gather up his things from his desk.

Snape, meanwhile had turned beat red from anger. "Potter!" he spluttered. "Just where do you think you're going?!"

"To the library," Harry replied calmly. He shifted his book bag onto his shoulder and began to walk out of the class. "I have an essay to finish for Charms." Alright, _that_ part was a lie, but it wasn't like anyone would know any better.

Harry walked out of the potions classroom without looking back. He left a fuming Snape and a class full of shocked first years behind.

* * *

Following his walk-out on his first potions class Harry proceeded to ditch all of the following potion lessons. And while this pissed off Snape, _technically_ there were no rules about being required to attend classes, so the professor couldn't take points from him. Harry started to use his potions period to either explore the castle or just lounge around.

The second Thursday of the year brought something that Harry was _not_ looking forward to. He didn't care what other people said about it, _flying_ was not something that he wanted to partake in.

"Flying. On bloody brooms," Harry grumbled to himself as he stood with all of the other first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws on a smooth, flat lawn opposite the grounds of the forbidden forest. "Doesn't _that_ sound like fun. 'Oh, yes, let's fly several hundred feet above the ground with only a thin stick of enchanted wood between us and certain death. It'll be such _fun_!' Fucking _brilliant_."

There was a circle of space around Harry, half from his mood, half from his "reputation", but the muggleborns who were close enough to here his grumblings turned slightly green. At least they, the sane ones, were able to see how utterly bloody _stupid_ this "sport" was. Next thing you knew they'd have flying carpets too.

Plus, the fact that some Gryffindor had apparently broken his arm during a flying lesson that morning wasn't making anyone more confident.

Eventually the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She surveyed them all with disturbing yellow eyes. Harry was beginning to wonder if everyone in this damn world had strangely colored eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry glanced down at the broom lying on the ground before him. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. _So_ reassuring. Harry wanted to go dig up the wizard who'd first come up with the idea of flying and shake him violently while asking what the hell was wrong with him.

On top of the danger there was also the innuendo involved with riding around on a broom. There was only one stick that he wanted between his legs, thank you very much.

"Stick out your right hand over you broom and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed from up front.

"UP!" everyone shouted. Harry couldn't help but snicker at the sight; they all sounded like a bunch of retards.

"Up," Harry repeated unenthusiastically. The broom didn't even twitch, for which he was quite glad. As a matter of fact, Harry was beginning to wonder what he was even doing there. Why hadn't he just ditched?

Harry halfheartedly attempted to get his broom to rise once more. When it didn't he shrugged, hoisted the broom onto his shoulder, and began to walk off.

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch called. "What _are_ you doing?"

"This broom's defective," Harry called over his shoulder without stopping. "I'm going to the broom shed to get another one."

Harry ignored Hooch's calls to come back as he continued on his way. Of course he wasn't _actually _going to get another broom, but now they couldn't say that he hadn't at least tried to come up with an excuse for his absence.

After dropping off the broom Harry headed back inside and began to make his towards the Hufflepuff common room for a much deserved--in his opinion--nap. He barely even made it past the first floor however when he ran into Draco Malfoy and the two apparently nameless Slytherins who seemed to shadow his every move like overbearing babysitters.

Harry was momentarily thankful that the Dursley had never gotten _him_ a babysitter.

"You," Malfoy hissed upon spotting him. He glared up at Harry and the dark haired wizard was surprised to find that he was indeed at least an inch taller than Malfoy. _That_ was rare, considering Harry's small size. "You told me that your name is Vlad Tepes the Fourth!"

Harry quickly smoothed any amusement from his face. "That's because it is."

"No, _you're_ Harry Potter!"

"Nope, sorry, I'm not," Harry replied. "I do look scarily like him though, don't I? I wonder if he'd mind if I used his name and fame to get free stuff from Diagon Alley...The fan mail would probably be pretty annoying though."

Speaking of which, why _hadn't_ he ever gotten fan mail? Not that he wanted any, but it seemed strange that he hadn't since he was such a big "celebrity". You'd think that there would be people offering their first born children to him for marriage left and right. Harry shuddered. Thank god _that_ wasn't the case.

Malfoy blinked in surprise. "Er...What? You're not?"

"Nope. The next time you see Harry Potter ask him about this conversation and I'm sure he'll tell you that he doesn't remember it."

"But, but..." Malfoy spluttered. "I-- I don't remember and 'Vlad Tepes' from the Sorting Ceremony!"

"That's because I was at the very end," Harry replied while nodding wisely. "You were probably spacing out from boredom and didn't notice me."

Malfoy scowled at him, but now looked unsure of himself. Harry held back his laughter.

"Remember, ask Harry Potter about this!" Harry reminded the blonde midget while stepping around him and his two goons. He began to whistle a tune he'd heard on TV as he walked away.

Messing with people was always fun, and Harry was going to have one hell of a time pretending to be both Harry Potter and Vlad Tepes around Malfoy. He'd have to keep track out how long it'd take Malfoy to figure out the truth.

Unfortunately it was only a few hours later that Harry saw Malfoy again. This time he was walking through a deserted hallway towards the Great Hall. Malfoy was with his two babysitters again.

"Harry Potter?" Malfoy asked somewhat hesitantly.

Harry titled his head to the side and pasted a confused look on his face. "Yes?"

Once he'd confirmed that he had the "right" person, Malfoy's sneer came back in full force. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said pompously.

"Great to meet ya, I'm sure," Harry said distractedly. "Now if you'll excuse me, Midget, I need to get going."

Instantly Malfoy went beet red and began spluttering indignantly. "E-excuse me?!"

"What?" Harry asked while giving him a strange look. "You're even shorter than _me_ which is really saying something."

"I-- I-- You...!"

Harry gave the blonde a mock solute and began to walk off, towards the Great Hall. He'd only made it a few feet past him however, when Malfoy suddenly spun around.

"Duel me!" he exclaimed loudly. He was breathing heavily from all of the frustration coursing through him.

Harry paused, surprised. He glanced back over his shoulder while blinking in confusion.

"A wizard's duel," Malfoy continued as he calmed down and recomposed himself. "Wands only--no contact. How about tonight? Around, say, midnight? In the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Harry stared blankly at the blonde. "Er, right, sure," he said before turning back around and continuing on his way. Like _hell_ he was going to duel anyone; he didn't even know a single curse yet! Plus, if he knew Malfoy, the midget probably wouldn't even show.

Hmm, where _was_ the trophy room anyway?

* * *

Before Harry knew that days were flying by and fall was in full swing. He eventually found himself, dare he say it, actually getting _used_ to being around lunatic magicians. It was amusing, at the very least, but often quite creepy as well. Such as the singing suits of armor, for one...

Indeed by the time Halloween rolled around, he was almost starting to _enjoy_ Hogwarts. But then again, that might just be because he got a laugh every time one of the Hufflepuffs jumped around him, and that was happening more and more since he'd recently perfected Snape's patented "billowing cape technique". The man had snarled at him for that and taken points for mocking a teacher. Harry had just smirked.

"Now don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick."

Harry sighed as various shouts of "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" came from around the classroom. They were all trying to make the feathers before them float, but most were failing horribly. Harry, honestly, couldn't understand why. They'd been shown the wand movements and how to say the incantation, but these kids were completely and utterly butchering the spell!

Harry repressed a second sigh, flicked his wand, and said the incantation _properly_. The feather floated half a foot into the air and then back onto the desk.

"Well done, Mr. Potter!" Flitwick squeaked. "10 points to Hufflepuff for being the first to get this difficult charm!"

"Er, sir, it's really not that hard," Harry replied expressionlessly. "It's just that most people have difficulty pronouncing the spell. Why aren't students here taught Latin so that they can perform spells better?"

Flitwick froze, surprised. "Er, well, I'm not entirely sure why," the diminutive professor answered honestly. "Hmm, that's an interesting idea though..." He wandered back to his desk while mumbling to himself

The rest of the day passed by pretty quickly and before Harry knew it he was on his way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. Before he managed to make it there however, he was intercepted by a bushy haired first year girl.

"I heard that you managed to perform the levitation charm!" the girl said. She was practically bouncing up and down from excitement. "I did too. How'd you like to go over notes later on how to--"

"Woah, woah, woah," Harry said, quickly stopping the girl. She was a Ravenclaw, he noted from the badge on her robes. "Go over notes? What the hell are you talking about?"

The girl blinked. "Well, go over the notes to see how they compare. To see how we both performed the complicated spell."

Harry rubbed one of his temples as he felt annoyance begin to course through him. "It's not a complicated spell," he bit out fro the second time that day. "It's actually really easy, as you _should_ know. You just pronounce the incantation and wave your wand. It's literally just mimicking the teacher. The only reason so many people have trouble with it is because they have no idea how to pronounce Latin."

The Ravenclaw's mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times as she gaped at Harry at shock. Yeah, Harry was good at leaving people speechless, and he was proud of that ability. The dark haired wizard left the girl there in the middle of the corridor and continued on to the feast.

To Harry's great relief his peers had long since learned that he preferred to be left alone. In fact he had a rather large space between him and the rest of the Hufflepuffs at the table in the Great Hall. The Gryffindors and Slytherins thought this was strange. The Ravenclaws, who often had classes with the Hufflepuffs, knew better.

The Halloween feast passed by just as normally as all other meals. Or at least it did until Professor Quirrel came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone, Harry included, stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped again the table, and gasped, "Troll--in the dungeons--thought you ought to know." He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Instant pandemonium.

After a moment several purple firecrackers exploded in the air, bringing silence back to the room. "Prefects," Dumbledore rumbled, "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry once again found himself staring dumbly at Dumbledore. He wasn't entirely positive, but he thought that the Slytherin dorms were in the dungeons. Which was where the troll supposedly was. Judging from Snape's rolling eyes, this had occurred to the man as well.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and followed the rest of the Hufflepuffs out of the Great Hall. In his opinion it'd be much smarter for all of the students to stay in one place, where they could be safely guarded, but who was he to argue with the "greatest wizard of the age".

And if someone got hurt because of the old man's stupidity, well, that was _his_ problem, wasn't it.

* * *

A/N: Oops. I think I just killed Hedwig in this chapter. Oh well. And yes, I'm making Malfoy short and I don't give a damn about whether or not it's canon. You see that note in the summary that says this story is AU? That means that I can do what ever the hell I want. ...Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I made Ron half centaur...

Anyways, thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. They've given me a lot to consider on who Harry will eventually get along with, and some of those people will appear in the next chapter. He'll never have any close friends though, particularly because just about everything Harry does--from not picking on Snape to detesting brooms--is geared toward survival. Just about every action he makes will have that kind of a motive backing it. And yeah, that does basically make him a selfish bastard personality wise, but it makes sense considering how he was brought up.

Oh, and this is completely random, but have any of you ever heard the song "Hero" by Pop Evil? The lyrics fit Harry so perfectly it's kind of creepy. Or at least they fit an Independent!Harry talking to Dumbledore. "Actions and Motives" by Ten Years is kind of like that too...Look up the lyrics and you'll see what I mean.

And, lastly, I unfortunately will be away for a week and won't be able to update this fic during that time. I'll try to update as soon as I get back though. Please review.

--S.R.

--

Rant #2: I'm sure that we've all noticed quite a few inconsistencies in the HP canon. One that stands out in my mind is how much the pureblood wizards know about the muggle world.

In the beginning of the first book there is a scene before the flying lesson where Malfoy is telling stories that "always seemed to end with him being chased by muggle helicopters". He knows that much--and has no problem knowing it--then why does he look down upon knowing even the slightest thing about muggles later on in the books? How is it that _Malfoy_ can know about muggle helicopters, but Mr. Weasley doesn't even understand what a rubber duck is? It just doesn't match up.

Also, in the very beginning of the first HP book, Rowling mentions how Harry often saw and was greeted by witches and wizards on the streets. This makes it seem that wizards are often in contact with the muggle world (Which would make sense, as there's no way to avoid it completely. Since Hogsmeade is apparently the only fully wizarding settlement in Britain, then the thousands of other wizards live hidden in the muggle world.), but in later books wizards are portrayed as knowing nothing about the muggle world, not even how they dress. Again, that doesn't match up, especially since wizards _do_ live in close proximity to muggles, and thus would at least see how they dress!


	4. Chapter 4: Social Havoc

Title: Searching for Disaster: Social Havoc  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 3,685  
First Written: July 14, 2008  
Last Edited: August 13, 2008  
Posted: August 13, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 4  
_Social Havoc_

* * *

The days following Halloween were completely hectic. Though the teachers had caught the troll without any problems or even any property damage, the students had woken up the next morning to find reporters crawling all over the school.

Even though they had classes that day, Harry took refuge in the library directly after breakfast. He had no interest in being bombarded by reporters--he'd seen the articles that the Daily Prophet had written following his start at Hogwarts and he shuddered to think of what they would write if they managed to get an "interview" with him.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

"Excuse me, kid, but could I possibly speak with you?"

Harry froze in his seat, surprise taking over his features. Of course, since his back was to the reporter who'd just approached him the man didn't notice. That itself was the only good thing about this situation; since the reporter couldn't see his face, he didn't know who he was.

"Why?" Harry asked cautiously without turning around.

The man chuckled. "Well, I'm l looking for someone with an interesting opinion and I believe I'll find it in someone like you rather than with one of the kids scrambling to speak with a reporter."

"...What paper are you with? The Daily Prophet?"

Again the man laughed, but this time it sounded mocking. "The Prophet? That propaganda gossip rag? Certainly not. I'm a reporter for the London Wizarding Post. _We_ only report hard news, which is why we're interested in this incident with the mountain troll."

Harry relaxed back into his seat. Not the Prophet, then? Well that was good at least. He was marginally surprised that there were so many other newspapers other than the Prophet, but when he really thought about it, it made sense--what kind of a world would have something like the Daily Prophet as its main paper? It was a disgrace to the definition of journalism. He'd probably seen it around Hogwarts so much because children were interest in the sort of gossip that that paper had.

Harry sighed inaudibly and leaned further back in his chair. He still didn't turn to face the reporter.

What is it you'd like to know?" the young wizard asked finally. It seemed that there was no getting out of this. At least the man still didn't know who he was...

"Well, to start of with," the reporter began with a smirk, "What's your take on what happened? How do you, as a student, feel that the school handled this incident?"

"Ah, now _that's_ a loaded question," Harry replied with a chuckled. "Hmm, the incident. Well, it certainly seems to me that the school wasn't prepared for any sort of an emergency. _Headmaster_ Dumbledore separated the students up and sent them of into the castle with no protection. At the very least one of the teachers should have been sent with each house, in case they ran into the troll, but the best solution would probably have been to keep everyone in one place, where they could be on guard. Divide and conquer and all that, but in the troll's favor.

"Did you know that muggle schools generally have plans for emergencies? Why doesn't a wizarding school, which has the possibility of _many_ things going wrong, have anything like that?

"The main question though, is how the troll got into Hogwarts in the first place. Mountain trolls are supposed to be fairly common in Scotland, right? So why wasn't the school prepared to keep them out? How can the security here in the supposedly safest place in Britain be so weak that a toll, one of the least intelligent creatures, is able to get inside? My opinion of this incident is that the school clearly has some problems with the way it's run. I shudder to think of what would happen if something smarter and more dangerous than a troll decided to try to get into the school."

For almost a minute after Harry finished his monologue there was nothing but silence between Harry and the reporter. Then the man began to snicker, quietly at first, but before long it became full out laughter.

"Heh, I think I like you, kid," the reporter said once he'd calmed down. "That was a very succinct answer. Tell you what, I'm looking for a good contact inside Hogwarts and you seem to fit the bill. All you'd have to do is keep in contact with me, telling me about what's going on inside Hogwarts and give me your opinions--the opinions of a student. So what do you say?"

To Harry's surprise, he found himself seriously considering the man's offer. It'd be interesting, certainly, but...Too much work.

"Nope, sorry," Harry replied with a shrug. "I _would_ be willing to speak with you again if anything interesting came up though. But even that would be under one condition."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Harry hesitated only for a moment before half turning around in his seat so that his face was exposed. "That my name is not revealed."

The man literally gaped at Harry, instantly recognizing the boy. The reporter, it turned out, was a man in his early forties with dark hair that was speckled with gray and equally dark eyes. He was tall--at least six feet--and had a square jaw that had short scar running along its length. The man stared at Harry for several long moments before finally breaking out of his stupor and shaking his head in amusement.

"Harry Potter? Now this _is_ a surprise."

Harry quirked a grin. "Expecting someone else?"

"Hmm, perhaps not," the journalist mused. "You created quite a stir you know; people have been saying that you're nothing like they expected.

Harry's grin widened so that it was all teeth and no humor. "And why would I be anything like you all expected, hmm? Anyway, do we have a deal or not, Mr...?"

"Johns. Richard B. Johns. And yes, I do believe we had deal. "

Richard extended his hand and, after only a second of hesitation, Harry firmly clasped it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Johns."

* * *

As it would turn out, Harry's second strange meeting would also occur in the library, only a few days later. By this time all of the reporters had finally left the school, although the magical world was still buzzing with news of the "attack". Harry was just glad that he'd managed to stay out of the limelight. Unfortunately, his peace was not to last.

Harry had been reading. He'd been sitting in the library, minding his own business and reading a book about high level hexes. And then suddenly someone was sitting across from him. They didn't say anything and in fact seemed to be ignoring him, but it was incredibly annoying nonetheless.

Finally, after several minutes, Harry slammed his book down onto the table and glared at the person across from him. "What the hell do you want?" he snarled.

Then he paused, surprised. It turned out that the person across from him was a first year girl with long, straight black hair and striking blue eyes. A Slytherin badge was displayed proudly on her robes. At his outburst she barely even glanced at him before her eyes fell back down to the book before her.

"Well, I _was_ sitting here reading," the girl replied dryly. "Does that bother you? And yet somehow I just can't seem to bring myself to care. Pity."

Harry stared at the girl, surprised by her sarcasm. But then, she _was_ a Slytherin and sarcasm seemed to be a common trait among Slytherins--though whether that was from their personalities or from stereotypes, Harry wasn't quite sure.

Harry leaned back in his chair and wordlessly studied the girl before him. More likely than not her Slytherin ambition and sneakiness had caused her to decide to get close to him. This _should_ have greatly pissed him off--he was a human being, dammit, not some figurehead!--but he actually found himself feeling rather neutral towards her. When he thought about, she wasn't really bothering him, nor even attempting to say anything. Plus, sarcasm from someone her age was quite refreshing.

Finally, after several minutes, Harry picked his book back up and continued reading. Hidden behind the pages, he allowed a smirk to come onto his features.

He had a feeling that this was going to be quite...amusing.

* * *

The next few months of school passed by rather quickly and without any noticeable disturbances. He'd spoken to the girl from the library--Daphne Greengrass, apparently-- a handful of times since their first meeting. She was one of only a few people that he'd found he could stand and she too was a bit of a loner. From what Harry had seen in his classes, she didn't _not_ get along with people, but she made no effort to reach out to them either.

Well, except for him of course.

It was only when Christmas break came that Harry found himself faced with a dilemma: Whether or not to go "home". He _definitely_ didn't want to stay in the wizarding world any longer than necessary, but then again, did he really want to go back to the Dursleys? It seemed that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

In the end Harry decided to stay at Hogwarts. As strange and completely insane as he found the place, it was infinitely better than the Dursleys--even if he _would_ probably just lock himself in his room for the duration of his stay and never see his relatives more than once or twice. And upside to staying was that all of his roommates and most of his House had left, giving him some much needed peace.

On Christmas morning Harry honestly wasn't expecting anything. He and his relatives had never been in the practice of exchanging gifts, and he didn't exactly have any friends. Thus it was a great surprise to Harry when he awoke on Christmas morning to find a massive pile of presents lying at the foot of his bed.

"What the _hell_?"

For a minute all Harry could do was stare. Who on earth had sent him presents? _Why_ had _anyone_ sent him presents? If this was someone's idea of a joke, heads were going to roll.

Hesitantly Harry crawled to the end of his bed and picked up the first of the presents: a small box with a note card attached. The young wizard flipped open the note, scanned over the words, and promptly went pale. Harry didn't notice when the box dropped from his limp hands; he was too busy staring in horror at the rest of the presents.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

Almost desperately, Harry dove at the pile and quickly began reading through all of the notes attached to them. His horror grew with each one and finally he threw himself back against the wall of the dorm and buried his face in his hands. He refused to look at the pile of presents, hoping against all hope and rationality that if he ignored them long enough, they'd go away.

Every single one of the presents was from fans. Fans! People that he didn't know! Random strangers were sending him Christmas presents. "Savior" or not, there was something _seriously_ wrong with that.

Eventually--Read: After a long period of denial--Harry drudged up his courage and got around to opening up all of the presents. Most of it was junk, candy, and other stuff that a "normal kid" would probably like, but there were a few good jewels among them. One such jewel was an old, yellowed book on Ancient Runes. Harry's attention instantly gravitated to it and he placed it aside to read later.

To Harry's surprise, he actually received two gifts from Daphne. He momentarily felt guilty about not getting her anything, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it'd come. It wasn't as if he'd _known_ she was going to give him something, and even if he had he didn't really have any way of getting something; he had no owl and no money with him.

The first of Daphne's gifts was a book titled _The Rises and Falls of Dark Lords of the Twentieth Century_. The notes attached to it simply said _Thought you might like this_. Harry cocked and eyebrow, but only moments after flipping through the book, he figured out what she'd meant: There was an entire chapter in the book dedicated to him, Voldemort, and his parents.

The other gift was a small device that looked somewhat like a gyroscope. Harry was puzzled at first, but the note attached to it explained that it was a sneakoscope and that it would give off a whistling sound when someone untrustworthy was around. Harry couldn't help but smirk at the device; it seemed that Daphne had caught on to his more than slight paranoia.

By the time Harry was done unwrapping and sorting through all of his presents it was almost noon. He'd just finished stacking them all and was about to get up to go get lunch when he noticed that there was one last wrapped package that had been half pushed under his bed. With a weary sigh the dark haired boy pulled it out and took a glance at the letter attached to it. And then promptly did a double take. The letter read:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion and a frown stretched across his face. There was no signature on this present and nothing pointing to who might have given it to him besides the reference to his father. Who had known his father well enough to be in his trust? And why would his father leave an item with someone anyway?

For once Harry cursed his lack of knowledge about anything to do with his parents.

Frown still firmly in place, the young wizard picked up the present and found that it was surprisingly light. He unwrapped it and instantly something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor, where it lay in gleaming folds. It was also strange to the touch, Harry noticed as it picked the shining cloth up off the floor, almost as though water had been woven into the fabric.

Harry draped the material over one arm to get a better look at it and immediately went very still as his arm and the cloth around it literally disappeared. He _knew_ what this was; he'd read about it while researching a disillusionment charm. It was an invisibility cloak.

Now the only questions were why his father had had one, why he'd given something so valuable to someone else, and _why_ that person had now sent it to him even though they could have kept it without anyone being the wiser.

* * *

After Christmas Harry had carefully hidden the invisibility cloak away at the bottom of his trunk. He told no one about the gift--not that he really had anyone to tell it _to_, but that was beside the point. Harry actually pushed the cloak and questions surrounding it to the back his mind for the time being. It wasn't like he had any reason to use it, after all.

The following months flew by rather quickly in a blur of magic and activities. Harry thought the rest of the year would be pretty peaceful, all up until one day in the end of March when Hagrid finally managed to drag an agreement out of Harry to come down to his hut on the edge of the forbidden forest.

As such, Harry was cold and somewhat miserable when he knocked on the door to Hagrid's house one Friday evening following his last class of the day. Instantaneously he heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Harry jumped slightly in surprise; he hadn't known that Hagrid had a dog.

"_Back_, Fang--_back_!" Hagrid's voice rang out. Then his big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. "Hold on. _Back_, Fang."

Eventually Hagrid let him in while struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. As soon as Harry stepped inside and the dog got a good look at him however, the beast suddenly went still. Then it jerked out of Hagrid's hands, ran into one corner of the hut, and hid under Hagrid's bed, leaving the two humans staring after it.

"Strange," Hagrid muttered. "Fang's a bit of a coward, but he's never done _that_ before. Anyway, make yerself at home."

It seemed that Fang had better self-preservation instincts than Hagrid gave him credit for.

As the tall man turned and began rummaging through one of the cupboards, Harry scanned the small, one-room hut. It was stifling hot inside, so much so that Harry wasn't sure how Hagrid could stand it. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the very heat of that fire, underneath the kettle, was huge black egg.

Harry stared at it.

"Er, Hagrid?" he said hesitantly. "What's _that_?"

Immediately Hagrid beamed. "That's a dragon egg. A Norwegian Ridgeback, to be precise. They're rare, them. I won it las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest.

"I keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em," Hagrid continued blithely. "An' when it hatches, I'll feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half an hour. I've bin doin' some readin', see. Got a lot o' books outta the library on dragons and how ter raise 'em."

For several minutes Harry just stared at Hagrid, uncomprehending. He had a dragon egg. One that he was going to hatch and raise. Harry may not have known much about dragons, but he did know that they grew to be quite large and were illegal to raise. Plus, Hagrid lived in _wooden_ house and dragons, even baby ones, breathed _fire_.

Harry turned around and walked out of the hut.

* * *

"That is _it_, Mr. Potter! This is the _last_ straw!" Professor McGonagall raged. "I've let you get away with this backtalk for long enough!"

Harry sighed and tuned out the older professor's ranting as she stood over his desk after the rest of the class had left. Honestly, he couldn't see what the problem was. It seemed that some people just didn't appreciate the finer subtleties of sarcasm.

"Are you even listening to me?!" McGonagall asked shrilly. It kind of reminded Harry of his aunt.

"No," Harry answered honestly with a bored shrug of his shoulders. Unfortunately for him, honestly apparently _wasn't_ a virtue in McGonagall's book.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff and detention!" she snapped. "Tonight with Filch! Be there at nine o'clock or I _will_ be going to the headmaster about this!"

Harry sighed a second time and then shrugged. Oh well, there went his evening. Hopefully a magical school's detentions wouldn't be as boring as muggle ones though.

Harry wouldn't know until later just how true that was, and by then he'd be desperately wishing to take the statement back.

* * *

Harry's first hint that something was wrong was the demented smirk on Filch's face when he met the man at his office that evening. The second hint was the one that sent alarm bells ringing in Harry's head as the squib lit a lamp and began to lead Harry through the castle.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" asked Filch, leering at him. Harry privately hoped that the man had no track record as a child molester. "Oh yes...hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me...It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out...hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed..."

Harry stared warily at Filch from the corners of his eyes. Was it safe to keep a man like this in a school filled with children? Just what kind of people did Dumbledore employ? Strict--and often creepy--teachers were one thing, but leering, bitter old man was quite another. What would happen if Filch snapped one day?

To Harry's ever increasing dread, Filch led him out the school and off into the dark grounds. Ahead, Harry could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry's heart instantly dropped into the pits of his stomach. He was going to be serving his detention with Hagrid? Just _what_ were they going to be doing, and outside too?

His horror must have shown on his face because Filch suddenly let out a maniacal laugh. "That's right, boy," he said. "It's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll come out in one piece."

Harry gaped openly at Filch. Were there people completely insane? Scratch that, he already knew the answer. This only proved it.

He'd heard storied about the forest, and understood perfectly well why it was off limits to students and staff alike. Yet despite this they were sending a _first year_ into it _at night_. And with a man without a wand as his only protection, if he was not mistaken. Were they trying to _kill_ him? Harry may have done a lot of studying in his free time, but he knew perfectly well that he was no where near good enough to protect himself yet.

He just _knew_ that this wasn't going to end well.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews for the last chapter! I'm infinitely sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter out; apparently the whole Reader Traffic thing--while pretty cool--screwed up my computer or something: For the past few weeks I haven't been able to post _**any**_ chapters. Do have any idea how frustrating it is to be able to get onto FF, but not actually put up the chapters? I couldn't even get to my stats page! Well, whatever the problem was, it's apparently fixed now so I'll be able update more regularly.

I was glancing through "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" the other day when I was suddenly struck with realization: I know the perfect pet for Harry. Unfortunately, Harry probably won't get it until the summer after first year. Anyone who can guess what the creature is before then gets digital kudos.

As for the whole Christmas thing, well, it would make sense to me for Harry to receive a bunch of presents like that. He's the so-called "savior" after all, and it's his first year back in the magical world. It always seemed a little strange to me that people seemed to praise the ground Harry walked on, were so excited to meet him, and yet never actually _did_ anything. ...That and the presents give me an excuse to give Harry some things he would otherwise be unable to get, such as that book on Ancient Runes.

There's also very slight reference to the movie _Pitch Black_ in this chapter (which, by the way, if a fucking _awesome_ movie). I'll be surprised if anyone picks up on what it is though.

Please review!

--S.R.


	5. Chapter 5: Forest Disaster

Title: Searching for Disaster: Forest Disaster  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 3,961  
First Written: August 6, 2008  
Last Edited: August 16, 2008  
Posted: August 16, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 5  
_Forest Disaster_

* * *

_Intoxicated eyes  
__No longer live that life  
__You should have learned by now  
__I'll burn this whole world down_

_--"Had Enough" by Breaking Benjamin_

As Harry trudged through the forbidden forest a dark scowl was set firmly on his face. Ahead of him was Hagrid, Fang, and another first year Hufflepuff named Zacharias Smith who Harry vaguely remembered as being one of his roommates; he'd never spoken to him before. All three of them--Fang in particular--sensed Harry's dark mood and as such were walking rather quickly while glancing nervously back at him every now and then. Harry just ignored them while he contented himself with glaring at the ground in front of him.

Harry was beginning to wonder why he hadn't turned around and ran back to his dorm room the moment Filch had led him outside. Or at least he told himself that he was beginning to wonder; in reality he knew exactly why he was plodding along through the forest, despite his reservations.

He'd like to say that it was because he was curious about the forest. Or that it was because he didn't want to leave Hagrid and Zacharias to some horrible fate. But the truth was nothing "noble" like that.

Harry just didn't want to be sent to Dumbledore. And he knew that McGonagall _would_ do so if he ditched. Don't get him wrong, it wasn't about getting into trouble or anything, he just found the man undeniably _creepy_. He hadn't actually met him yet--thank Merlin for that--but he always seemed to be _smiling_ at him. Always.

Harry was even researching some locking charms that he could put around his curtains at night, just in case.

And so, even though Harry had resigned himself to their trek through the forest, he was _not_ happy with it. Especially not since he'd been told that they were looking for a creature that drank unicorn blood. At that point Harry's mind had gone completely blank. They were sending a group of fairly defenseless people--including two _first_ _years_--into the forbidden forest after a dangerous dark creature.

Makes perfect sense.

The only good thing about the whole situation was that he'd have a _lot_ to tell Johns about. Harry couldn't wait to see the look on Dumbledore's face when he read the article in the London Wizarding Post

"So, what'd you do?" Zacharias asked quietly.

Harry glared grouchily at him. He'd thought that he was going to be serving this detention alone, but as soon as he and Filch had approached Hagrid's hut they'd found that Zacharias was waiting with Hagrid. Harry was sure whether he should be annoyed or relieved that someone else besides Hagrid was with him.

"...I was 'rude' to a teacher," Harry replied grudging. "You?"

"Feh, I was caught out of the dorm after curfew. I still can't believe that they gave me detention for _that_. Bloody Nazis."

Harry quirked a surprised eyebrow at the boy. What had Zacharias of all people been doing out late at night?

Before Harry could even open his mouth to ask, Hagrid suddenly stopped. Harry and Zacharias peeked around the large man and found that he was staring at a small pool of silvery-blue liquid.

"Unicorn blood," Hagrid explained quietly, and even Harry could hear the reverence in his voice. "The unicorn can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter-- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Zacharias and hoisted them off the path and behind a towering oak. Harry gagged and rubbed his throat once Hagrid had let go. He glared at the man; they could have moved on their own had he actually given them time to do so!

Harry's thought were cut off by the sound of something slithering over dead leaves nearby. It almost sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Frowning, the young wizard poked his head around the tree. Hagrid had been muttering things about werewolves and other beasts, but that had sounded more like a human to Harry. And really, that made the most sense: Who could harm a unicorn better than a wizard?

Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he muttered. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

Fortunately the rest of the evening passed without any other unusual encounters. They were beginning to head back to edge of the forest when, suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself--I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came a centaur with red hair and a beard. Harry and Zacharias gaped at him, shocked.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

Ronan didn't reply. Instead he stared straight at the large man, his face solemn. Hagrid shifted uneasily in the silence, but the centaur didn't seem to notice.

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan said finally.

"Er, yeah," Hagrid replied while glancing up at the sky. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's unicorn bin hurt--you seen anythin'?"

Again Ronan didn't answer immediately. Instead he flung his head back and spent nearly a minute staring up at the stars.

"Mars is bright tonight," he repeated. "Unusually bright."

Hagrid twitched, clearly impatient. "Yes, but have yeh noticed anythin' strange?"

Harry sighed inaudibly and rolled his eyes. It was clear that they weren't going to get anywhere with this centaur. He was just spitting out riddles and repeating himself, as if reluctant to say anything else. Before Ronan could even open his mouth to reply to Hagrid--doubtlessly with another comment about Mars--Harry decided to cut in.

"Why is Mars bright?"

Instantly everyone's attention swung around to him and Harry found himself staring into a pair of dark eyes. The centaur studied him for a moment before his lips lifted up into a small smirk.

"The planet speaks," Ronan told him.

Harry couldn't help but stare. The planet _speaks_? Well the hell was that supposed to mean? Fine then, two could play at that game.

"And what does the planet say?"

"The planet speaks," Ronan reiterated. "It speaks of darkness and danger. It speaks of death. Warnings unto you, young wizard. The sign of the grim falls upon you."

Harry stared blankly at the centaur. Sign...of the grim? Seriously? He knew that wizards put a lot of stock in divination and other such hocus pocus, but it seemed to him that Ronan was just taking some perverse pleasure out of telling him that he was going to die.

Actually, that would make a lot of sense, Harry thought. From what he'd seen so far centaurs enjoyed confusing people and talking circles around them. Maybe they didn't actually take any stock in these "speaking planets", but just used them get people to stop bothering them. It was sort of like what Harry did with the whole "Vlad Tepes" thing.

Finally, after a minute of silence--and Hagrid staring in horror and pity at him, much to Harry's annoyance and Ronan's amusement--Harry shrugged. "Right then, I suppose we should get going," he said. "I still have a letter to write tonight and it's pretty clear that we aren't going to find that unicorn. Whatever was hunting it had probably already killed it or something."

Hagrid's look of horror increased, but Zacharias nodded in agreement. "We have classes tomorrow," the other first year commented, "And it's already really late. I'm going to be dead tired in the morning."

"Afternoon, you mean," Harry said with a smirk. "I won't be getting up any time before noon, no matter was the professors say. It's their fault for having us go out and traipse around the forbidden forest anyway, so they can't really complain."

Zacharias hesitated, but eventually agreed. The two of them turned around and began walking back through the forest. Thankfully they were already close enough to Hogwarts' grounds that the path was wide and clear. Harry glanced back over his shoulder as they left the clearing and found that Ronan was nowhere to be seen and Hagrid was hurrying after them, a look of confusion on his face.

"What did you mean before, about the letter?" Zacharias asked Harry several minutes later in low tones. Hagrid and Fang were several paces ahead of them, leading them back to the castle.

Harry smirked wickedly. "I know someone who might be...interested...to hear about this detention. Sending two first years out in the middle of the night to look for a creature that's killing unicorns is really disgusting. Plus, the authorities really should be notified about this so that _they_ can take care of it. They're the ones who are trained to do this sort of stuff anyway, right?"

Surprisingly, Zacharias returned his grin. For an eleven year old, the boy had a rather malicious spark in his eye.

"Let me know if there's any way to help," Zacharias said passionately. "Detentions are one thing, but sending us into that forest seemed almost like an attempt to harm us. Surely it's illegal or _something_. We didn't even have a fully trained wizard with us!" The boy's voice dropped even farther. "Hagrid was expelled from Hogwarts, you know. His wand was snapped and all so that he couldn't do magic."

Harry nodded seriously. "All we had with us for defense was Hagrid's crossbow and Fang. It'd be one thing if we were sixth or seventh years, but we haven't even completed one year of schooling yet."

"Here we are," Hagrid said suddenly, even as Zacharias opened his mouth to reply. The two Hufflepuffs glanced up and found to their surprise that they were standing before Hogwarts front doors. "Go on up to bed now, both of yeh."

Harry and Zacharias glanced at each other and shared a firm nod.

* * *

The moment that Albus Dumbledore woke up he knew that he should stay in bed that day. But, like most people, he immediately pushed the feeling away. After all, it wasn't like much could go wrong in _his_ school. And even if it did, he was still the most powerful wizard in Great Britain, perhaps even in all of Europe.

And so, despite all of the warning signs telling him to go back to bed, pull the covers over his head, and spend the day in hiding, Dumbledore got up with a twinkle in his eye.

By the time Dumbledore got down to the great hall for breakfast, most of the students were already there and were whispering animatedly, often in groups. Dumbledore frowned worriedly then and when he saw several students passing a paper amongst them he wondered if there was something in the newspaper. When the headmaster opened up the Daily Prophet however, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. And so he shrugged off the students actions, passing it off as gossip.

The next warning that something was wrong was when McGonagall started acting strangely. Nervous even.

Finally Dumbledore sighed exasperatedly and turned to his deputy headmistress. "Minerva, whatever is the problem?" he asked kindly.

McGonagall jumped--actually jumped!--at the sound of his voice. Her eyes flittered around the hall for a moment before resting back on him.

"Albus," she whispered hesitantly. She paused before picking up the newspaper in front of her and handing it to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore frowned in confusion when he noticed that the paper was not the Daily Prophet, but rather the London Wizarding Post. Unfortunately, before he could even read the front headline, multiple gasps of shock from both the students and his staff caught his attention. He glanced up and then immediately froze upon seeing that a group of half a dozen Aurors had walked into the great hall.

As the Aurors approached, Dumbledore stood up, pasting a welcoming smile onto his face. On the inside, however, he was nervous, confused, and swearing violently. What the hell were they doing here?!

"Welcome!" Dumbledore boomed when the Aurors had stopped a few feet from the staff table. "Welcome to Hogwarts. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

The Auror Captain at the front of the group bowed politely to him. "Sir. We would like to have a word with you...In private, if you don't mind," he said while glancing at the wide-eyed students.

Dumbledore nodded jovially. "Of course, of course," he replied. "Please follow me. McGonagall, if you will?"

McGonagall jumped in surprise at being addressed. For a moment she just stared at him and then she quickly realized what he meant, leapt up from her seat, and quickly hurried to open the door that was tucked in one corner of the hall, behind the staff table. Dumbledore made a sweeping gesture with one hand, motioning for the Aurors to follow him.

Once they were all comfortably seated in the room behind the great hall Dumbledore turned to the Aurors with a twinkle in his eye. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Thank you for the accommodations, headmaster," the Auror Captain said formally. "I am Charles Silverstein, Auror Captain 2nd Class. We were sent from the Ministry of Magic to do a formal inquire on the unicorn kill in the forbidden forest. We'd like your permission to do a scour of the forest."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise and immediately wondered how the Ministry had found out about the unicorn. From his side, McGonagall coughed politely and then pushed the newspaper--which she'd apparently brought with her--to him.

The elder headmaster did a quick glance over at the article and then promptly winced. It was about the unicorn, he saw, but not just that. Rather the focus of the article was on two students who had apparently been sent into the forest in the middle of the night after this "unicorn-killer". The article questioned both the safety of the school grounds and the school's punishment methods. Dumbledore gulped slightly, knowing that this was going to hit the school hard.

What really caught his attention, however, was that one of the students had been Harry Potter. Shocked, Dumbledore's eyes quickly flickered up the McGonagall. Again she was looking distinctly nervous.

He hadn't known about this! He'd known about the unicorn's death, of course, but he'd thought that only Hagrid would be looking for the unicorn, not two first years as well! That one of them was the Boy-Who-Lived only made things infinitely worse; the wizarding world would be crying out for blood.

Silverstein had apparently noticed what Dumbledore was looking at because a smirk flashed across his face so fast that the headmaster wasn't even sure whether he'd seen it or not. The Auror Captain straightened in his seat, looking distinctly amused.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Another Auror unit will be coming by later today to do an enquiry on this school's detentions. Now, about the forest?"

Dumbledore quickly cast around for something to say to divert the disaster that was coming, but it seemed that he'd been backed into a corner. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He'd been backed into a corner and all he could do was attempt to find out what'd happened.

"Of course you have permission to enter the forest," Dumbledore said gravely. "If you need any assistance from me or my staff, please don't hesitate to let me know."

* * *

As the Aurors filed through the door at the back of the great hall, Harry couldn't help but smirk openly. This had turned out even better than he'd hoped! All around him students were whispering loudly, gossiping about what'd happened and why the Aurors were there.

Slowly the rest of the teachers left and then the students began to disperse. As Harry himself stood and began to walk out of the hall, he heard Malfoy talking loudly to the other Slytherins.

"See," the blonde was saying, "Even the Ministry has finally caught on to Dumbledore's incompetence. I bet that within the week he'll be fired from his post. Good riddance, I say."

"Oi!" an angry voice called through the crowed. "Don't say things like that about Dumbledore!" Harry's--and everyone else's--head swiveled around to watch as a pale boy with Gryffindor robes pushed his way towards Malfoy. Seamus, Harry thought his name was, but he couldn't be sure. "He's the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had!"

Malfoy sneered at the boy and retorted with something that Harry couldn't hear--the whispers around him were starting to get too loud. Whatever it was seemed to start a row between the boys however and it only took a moment for spells to start flying.

"Shit!" an older boy next to Harry yelped as he dodged a stray spell. Everyone began backing off, giving the two some room. Of course it was only a couple of minutes until a few Prefects broke through the crowd and attempted to stop the fight.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what happened next. One moment he'd been watching a sixth year Prefect yelling at the two boys and trying to break them up, then a spell was sent flying off course. It hit a table and exploded, causing a chunk of wood to break off and sending splinters flying everywhere. Harry could remember a sharp pain on the side of his face even as everyone quickly moved away from the table. Harry moved back with everyone else, but his attention was still on the two first years. To his amusement the Prefect was now screaming at the boys, who at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Harry!" a first year Hufflepuff girl in front of him suddenly gasped. She was pointing at his face while her other hand covered her mouth in shock. "You're bleeding!"

Harry blinked, surprised. He lifted a hand to his face and wiped away the blood that was trailing down his cheek from a small cut on the side of his face. He glanced at the stunned kids around him and instantly a wide smirk came onto his face. This was _perfect_.

Slowly Harry raised his blood covered finger to his mouth and licked him. "Mmm, tasty," he said, his eyes shining with amusement.

The other students drew back, shock written across their faces. They began whispering madly amongst themselves and a couple even backed away.

"He really is a vampire!" Harry heard from amongst the crowd. The young wizard held back his snickers, but knew that if he didn't leave soon he'd burst out into laughter. He turned around and walked out of the great hall as quickly as he could. The crowd parted before him, clearly afraid.

Harry finally let his snickers escape his throat once he was alone in the hallway. Playing with people's minds had always amused him, and wizards were so easy trick!

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" a dry voice commented from behind him.

Harry glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Daphne was leaning up against the wall. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly, but she looked just as amused as he did.

"Maybe," Harry replied with a shrug. He made a strange face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go wash the taste of blood from my mouth."

* * *

The next few months passed mostly without incident for Harry. The exams came and Harry took all of them, including Potions. His hope was that if he failed badly enough, Snape would be recognized as a horrible teacher--which _was_ true.

From what Harry had heard, the Aurors had indeed searched the forbidden forest. They found the unicorn's corpse, but there'd been no sign of whatever had killed it. A week later another Auror unit had come and spoken to Dumbledore, although no one knew about what. Harry had noticed that the headmaster had been acting strangely ever since then though.

The afternoon of June 4th found Harry and Zacharias walking through Hogwarts' dungeons. Their last exam, History of Magic, had been earlier that day.

"Why are we down here again?" Zacharias asked curiously. "Almost everyone else is outside, relaxing."

"I'm bored, so I'm looking for Daphne," Harry replied without looking at the other Hufflepuff.

"Bored?" Zacharias snorted. "Of course. We just finished exams and already-- Wait, what?" Zacharias blinked, surprised. "Daphne? As in Daphne Greengrass, the Slytherin?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, the Slytherin," Harry snapped. "That would be why we're in the _dungeons_."

Zacharias opened his mouth to reply when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of screaming. The two first years stopped in the middle of the corridor, surprised and confused. They shared a glance before looking back over their shoulders, where the sound was originating from. Moments later a group of terrified students came tearing down the hall.

Harry stared.

"What the--?"

More students followed the first few and soon the sounds of shouts, roars, and explosions could be heard. Finally getting fed up, Harry grabbed the arm of a passing girl, jerking her to a halt.

"What's going on?" Harry growled. The girl tried to tug her arm free, not even noticing who he was.

"Dragon!" she said, panicked. "There's a young dragon that got loose in the castle! The teachers are trying to capture it, but it's gotten into the dungeons!" The girl finally pulled her arms from Harry's grip and then dashed away down the hallway.

Harry and Zacharias shared another look, horrified.

The next thing Harry knew there were numerous bright spells flying through the corridor. A screeching roar reverberated through the area and suddenly a large green dragon, about the size of a horse, flew into sight. It looked both angry and scared as it did a loop close to the ceiling, dodging spells as several teachers ran after it.

"I've alerted Dumbledore!" McGonagall yelled to the other professors as she came running around the corner. In one hand she had her robes gathered and held above her knees while her other hand held her wand out at the dragon. "But he'll take too long to get back her from the Ministry of Magic! We have to capture it before it does anymore damage!"

One of the spells managed to hit the dragon and sent is crashing into the wall with a pain-filled roar. Stones cracked and went flying from the collision, forcing Harry to duck and cover his head with his arms. He and Zacharias went stumbling backwards, attempting to seek refuge behind a nearby suit of armor.

With yet another roar, the dragon drew itself up, opened its mouth, and then let out a stream of fire, causing the professors to throw themselves out of the way. Snape rolled into a crouched position and then yelled out a spell over the sounds of the battle. The red spell bounced off the hard ridges on the dragon's shoulder and hit the floor instead. Instantly the stones exploded, sending debris everywhere.

"Bloody--!" Zacharias yelped in surprise.

Harry growled in frustration, only to suddenly cut himself off when he noticed that the suit of armor was toppling. "Move, move, move!" he yelled while pulling scrambling backwards.

Zacharias, however, was frozen in place, staring up at the falling metal in fear. Harry swore under his breath and lunged forward. He latched onto the boy's robed and dragged him backwards away from the suit of armor just as it crashed to the ground. He continued walking backwards until all of the sudden a jolt of shock ran through his body as his foot met air instead of stone.

Harry's head twisted around, his eyes wide, and saw that behind him was a hole in the floor where Snape's spell had destroyed the stone. He let out a strangled shock and let go of Zacharias' robes even as the stone beneath his other foot crumbled, plunging him into the black depths of the castle.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. It's always so interesting to see what different people think. And about the lyrics in the beginning...honestly I was listening to Breaking Benjamin while writing this chapter, so figured, why the hell not. They kind of fit the chapter...ish...Okay, not really, but it _does_ sort of fit the disaster theme.

The whole centaur-aren't-actually-into-diviniation-but-do-it-to-piss-off-wizards-and-keep-them-off-their-backs thing literally popped out of nowhere while I was writing this chapter. I think it's an interesting concept and haven't seen anything like it before though, so I'll be keeping it for now. Maybe even go a little further with it eventually...

Please review!

--S.R.


	6. Chapter 6: Of Stones and Schizophrenics

Title: Searching for Disaster: Of Stones and Schizophrenics  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: coarse language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 4,843  
First Written: August 9, 2008  
Last Edited: August 19, 2008  
Posted: August 19, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 6  
_Of Stones and Schizophrenics_

* * *

_You're full of pride and arrogance  
__You can't accept the nearing end of this short-lived life  
__Smile and give a toast, brag and boast, fool the world with all of your lies  
__The parasite's host never even knows, pull the wool over our eyes  
__Walk the line and pay the price, a pound of flesh for paradise_

_--"All Your Lies" by Ten Years_

As Harry fell he could feel nothing but shock and a strange sense of weightlessness. For a moment his entire body felt paralyzed, but as the light above him began to grow smaller as he plummeted, his instincts quickly kicked into gear.

Swearing violently in his mind, Harry twisted around as best he could while in midair to see what was below him. It was too dark to see very well, but he thought that he could just barely make out stone below him, fast approaching. Panicked, Harry quickly ran spells through his mind, desperately trying to think of something to get out of this situation.

Wait! That was it! There _was_ one spell.

Harry began casting as quickly as he could, praying to whoever was out there that this would work. He knew the incantation, but had never even tried the spell, so there was a large chance that in moments he'd be little more than a smear on the stones.

_Please let this work_, Harry begged. _Please!_ His eyes widened as the floor approached and he hit the stones--

--Only to bounce up a couple of inches, as if having hit something soft. Harry let out a relieved sigh as he lay back against the stone floor beneath him. He'd only come across the cushioning charm a couple of days ago. He'd figured that it could be useful, but he'd never had the chance to try it out, what with exams and all.

As Harry stared up at the tall ceiling above him, he noticed that more of the stone debris caused by the hole--which was now little more than a small circle of light in the distance--was beginning to crumble. As several large pieces broke off the boy's eyes widened once more and he quickly scrambled to his feet and threw himself backwards while swearing loudly. He covered his eyes with his arms as the rubble collapsed in front of him.

Once the dust had cleared, Harry chanced a peek. And then promptly blanched. He was, apparently, standing in an old corridor that stretched into the darkness behind him. In front of him however there now was a large pile of rubble that completely blocked his view of the hole he'd fallen through.

At least he knew what had happened to Hagrid's dragon egg, Harry thought grimly. Unless of course, Hogwarts kept more than one dragon on its grounds. Harry wouldn't put it past the headmaster...

Angrily Harry kicked one of the large broken stones in front of him. Bloody hell! There was no way for him to get out now, and no way for anyone to get to him. The boy glanced back at the corridor behind him. There was only one way that he could go now. Harry released a resigned sigh and began what would undoubtedly be a long walk to only-Merlin-knows-where.

Knowing his luck, there'd be a troll at the end of it or something.

Indeed the corridor turned out to be very long. Harry was very thankful that they'd been taught the _lumos_ charm at the beginning of the year or else he'd have been feeling his way along in the dark. Finally--after what was probably only five minutes but had felt like hours--Harry came to...A dead end.

The dark haired wizard snarled angrily at the dark wall before him. "Blood hell!" he snapped. "All that for a fucking dead end!" He glared up at the ceiling above him. "You really do hate me, don't you?" he muttered, though he had no real idea who he was talking to.

In a fit of unrestrained anger Harry kicked out at the wall. And then yelp when the wall _reached out _and grabbed at _him_. Horrified and shocked, Harry quickly stumbled away, almost dropping his wand in the process. The wall had...!

Harry paused and squinted closer at the wall. Wait, no, it wasn't a wall at all! It was a mass of vines. Almost like ivy, Harry noted as he held the glowing tip of his wand closer, though different. He could swear he'd seen it before...

Like flipping a switch, Harry suddenly remembered. Devil's Snare! It was Devil's Snare! They'd been taught about the plant just after Christmas in Herbology. If he remembered correctly, there was only one way to get rid of the plant

Harry waved his wand while muttering a spell under his breath. Instantaneously a stream of bluebell fire was sent at the mass of Devil's Snare blocking his way. The vines shrunk back, writhing as they were burnt to a crisp.

The young boy kept on sending burst of flame after burst of flame. Slowly the Devil's Snare pulled away, revealing a path through into a high-ceilinged room. Harry cautiously edged his way into the room.

The ceiling, Harry noticed, was not visible. The room stretched up into darkness with no end in sight even when Harry raised his wand up as far as he could. As the other end of the room was a simple wooden door. A glance back showed him that the Devil's Snare had closed in around the entrance to the corridor.

Harry grimaced. There was no going back then, not unless he wanted to force his way through again. With a resigned sigh Harry stalked over to the wooden door, threw it open, and then walked through.

The door, as it turned out, led into yet _another_ corridor. The passageway sloped downward and Harry was reminded distinctly of Gringotts. Before the young wizard got too far however, he suddenly realized that he could hear a soft rustling and clinking coming from up ahead.

Harry frowned, but proceeded anyway. Eventually the corridor opened up into a brilliantly lit chamber. It had a high arching ceiling--which _was_ visible--and on the opposite side of the room was a heavy wooden door. Flying around the room were the sources of the noise: Keys. _Flying_ keys.

Harry stared blankly at the room. Flying keys. They weren't floating around though, no the keys had actual _wings_ attached to them. They were darting around the upper part of the chamber like a flock of birds.

As he walked across the room, Harry resisted the urge to rub his temples. Now he'd seen everything. As he reached the other door however, he hesitated. Considering all of the keys there was little doubt that the door was locked. He tried tugging the door open anyway, but it refused to budge.

As Harry turned back to the chamber, he noticed that there were four broomsticks propped up against the wall near the door. Instantly his face took on a look of horror as everything clicked into place. Oh _hell_ no! There was no way that he was going to get onto a bloody broomstick and fly around, trying to catch a goddamned _flying_ _key_!

Snarling, Harry spun back around and gave another hard yank on the door. Dammit! If only there was another--

Suddenly Harry paused, staring at the door thoughtfully. Considering what he knew about how wizards acted and thought, there was a possibility...

Harry cast his eyes around the room once more. After a moment his gaze came to rest on the brooms. In a few short steps he strode over to them and examined their bristles. Yes, with just a touch of magic this _could_ work.

Swiftly the dark haired wizard broke off one of the bristles. A quick wave of his wand later and the bristle had been transfigured into metal. Harry grinned widely. Perfect.

Harry slowly inserted the bristle-turned-lock pick into the lock on the door. He fiddled with it for a moment and then, there! With a soft click the door swung open.

With a wide smirk, Harry inspected his handy work. Yes, it'd been just as he'd expected. Whoever had created this chamber had put complicated enchantments on the door to magic preventing from opening it, but hadn't even thought of protecting it from something as "muggle" and simple lock picking. Harry was eternally grateful that he'd learnt to pick locks years ago to get in and out of his relatives' home--and various other locations--without them noticing. His experience was really paying off.

At first the next chamber seemed to be so dark so dark that he'd have to use the light spell again. But then, as he stepped into the room, light suddenly flood it and Harry found himself standing in front of an astonishing sight: He was on the edge of a massive chessboard. In front of him were the black chessmen, which were almost twice as tall as he was.

For a moment all Harry could do was gape. "Blood and bloody ashes," he breathed.

Cautiously Harry stepped out onto the board. As he walked past the chessmen he stared up at them in awe. Who on earth had created this? And why? For that matter, what was up with the last two chambers too? It was as if they'd been placed there to prevent someone from passing through.

At that thought, Harry hesitated in mid-step. For a moment he considered turning back, but then he remembered that there was no "back". The hole he'd fallen through had been blocked by the rubble, trapping him in that strange corridor. The only thing he could do was proceed through these strange rooms and hope that they eventually led out of the castle.

Harry sighed and then continued his trek across the giant chessboard. Unfortunately, the moment he stepped past the squares containing the black pawns, the white pieces on the other side of the board sprung to life, leaping forward and advancing on him like living people carved from stone.

Shocked for what seemed like the hundredth time that day Harry jumped in surprise, inadvertently tipping over his own legs and falling backwards. As the chessmen continued to advance, the young wizard quickly scrambled backwards on all fours.

The moment Harry was once again on the squares containing the black pawns, the white chessmen halted their advance and quietly went back to _their_ squares. Once they'd returned to their positions they went completely still once more.

Harry frowned while eyeing the chessmen warily. Experimentally he took one step over the line before him and the chessmen once again sprang to life. When he pulled his foot back the giant pieces went still again.

Hmm, so they were activated when he passed a certain point, in order to prevent him from reaching the door. Still frowning, Harry turned to eye the black chessmen. Why then, had _they_ not "activated" when he entered the room, or even when he crossed the line? It didn't make sense, unless...

"You've got to be kidding me," Harry groaned. They expected him to _play_ his way across? Beat the white chessmen and you get access to the door, it seemed.

There was only one problem with this: Harry didn't know how to play chess. He'd never bothered learning when he'd been younger; he'd never had any reason to. And he'd _certainly_ never expected to be confronted with a giant magical chess set with some sort of artificial intelligence.

Harry ran an agitated hand through his messier than usual hair. There had to be _some_ way around this. He _had_ to get to that other door.

Harry's frown sprung back onto his face with full force as he turned his attention to the line separating the squares in front of the black pawns again. How did this activation thing work anyway? If he could find some way around it, to stop the white chessmen from activating, then he'd be home free.

Experimentally, Harry stuck he foot out over the line, as if to take a step, but didn't let his foot touch the board. Nothing happened. He set his foot down, and instantly the chessmen sprung to life. He lifted his foot back up and they went still again.

Harry grinned widely. That was it! It was the board itself that was charmed, kind of like a pressure sensor.

Slowly his glee faded, taking his grin with it. The only problem was how to get across the enormous board without actually touching it. Damn.

Harry spent a minute pacing back and forth between two of black pawns while raking his mind for a solution. Unfortunately, he came up blank. None of the spells he knew dealt with flying. There was the levitation charm they'd been taught in charms of course, but that couldn't be cast on one's self. For the first time in his life Harry wished that he had a broom--

...Oh.

Flushing with embarrassment, Harry glanced back at the door to the chamber with the flying keys. That chamber held _four_ brooms. Brooms that he'd completely forgotten about. Harry was momentarily glad that no one was with him to witness his brief mental lapse.

After going back to fetch one of the brooms, Harry easily flew over the giant chess set. True to his assessment, the white chessmen didn't activate even as he landed behind the board, next to the door. And even they had, Harry doubted that they would have been able to jump in the air to catch him, being stone and all.

Over all, when one applied some logic to the situation this "defense" was rather easy to get by. Hell, the means to get past it had even been provided! A good chess player probably would have been able to get by too.

After landing, Harry took a moment to glare at the broom he'd used. If he hadn't been cemented in his beliefs before, he now knew that he would _never_ use a broom again, not even if he got caught in another situation like this. Not only had it been unstable, but it'd also been uncomfortable as hell. He would never understand how some people could stand--and sometimes even _enjoy_--sitting on a broom for hours on end. If anyone ever asked him to join a Quidditch game he'd probably be forced to cheerful shove the broom up their ass.

The moment Harry stepped through the door he gagged as his nose was assaulted by a disgusting scent. Moments later his eyes focused on the source: A massive creature that Harry correctly guessed to be a troll. A troll that was staring straight at him.

"Oh _shit_."

With a loud roar the troll lifted its large spiked club and swung at Harry. Paling, Harry dove to the side and watched in horror as the club slammed into the spot he'd been standing in with enough force to create a small crater. Snarling, the troll turned to face him and raised its club once more.

Despite his instinctual terror, Harry's mind watched this with a strange sort of detachedness. Had he actually been paying attention, the young wizard would have recognized this as an effect of both the adrenaline currently pumping through his system and many, many years of having all of his attention focused on survival. As it was, Harry wasn't paying attention to his current state of emotion, but rather was quickly trying to think of something, _anything_, that he could do to take out a monster that was four times his height and almost three times his width. Not to mention that trolls supposedly had magic-resistant skin.

As the troll made another swing at him, Harry took off in the other direction, attempting to reach the door before the troll could reach him. Unfortunately, he had to quickly dart in a different direction as it attacked again. As he continued to dart around the room, dodging certain death, Harry began mentally cursing his short stature; the troll could cover in one step what took him five or more.

Eventually the troll managed to trap Harry--who was quickly becoming exhausted from all the running and dodging--into a corner before the boy could reach the door. Harry doubted that the troll had done so on purpose, but that didn't change his situation. And the stench certainly didn't help either. Harry's lips curled back in a snarl as he cursed his rather small repertoire of spells. He knew of nothing could be used to defend himself against a troll.

Harry threw himself flat against the wall as the troll's club came crashing down, its spikes missing him by mere inches. As the troll pulled the club back for another--and undoubtedly last--strike, Harry thrust his wand out and yelled the only spell he could think of that could potentially do _anything_ against a troll.

"Lumos!"

Harry's wand abruptly flared with light and the troll let out an ear shattering screech. It brought its hands up to cover its sensitive eyes, inadvertently dropping its club in the process. Harry let the spell fade and while the troll staggered backwards, blinking its eyes stupidly, he dashed around it and ran through the door.

As soon as he'd slammed the door shut behind him, Harry leant back against the door and took several deep gulps of air in an attempt to calm his wildly beating heart. A troll?! The school kept a bloody fucking _troll_ in its dungeons?! He damn well _better_ find a passage out of here after having to go through all these chambers.

Once he'd sufficiently calmed down, Harry finally took stock of the room his was in. In retrospect that was probably what he should have done _first_, but as nothing had attacked him yet it didn't really matter.

This chamber was much smaller than the first three. All it contained was a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. As soon as Harry stepped away from the door however, a fire immediately sprung up behind him. A _purple_ fire. The doorway leading onward was also blocked by black flames, effectively trapping him.

Harry groaned. It figured that this wouldn't be any easier than the other rooms.

Hesitantly, Harry approached the table and saw that there was a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Upon opening it and reading it, he found that it was a riddle explaining that some of the bottles held poisons, some held wine, and two of them allowed him to go through either the black or purple fires. As there was no way in hell that Harry was going back into a chamber containing a doubtlessly enraged troll, this meant that he needed to figure out which bottle let him move onward.

Harry sighed lightly and leaned against the table while staring down at the paper. "It's not on the ends," he muttered to himself, "And it's not the second on the left or second to the right. That leaves the three in the middle and since it says 'Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides'..."

Abruptly Harry reached out and snatched the smallest of the bottles. He hesitated for just a second after uncorking it, knowing that he could easily be wrong. Then he shrugged.

"Well, since a dwarf doesn't 'hold death', there's no chance of me dying even if I'm wrong," Harry reassured himself. "...Unless the paper is lying to distract me...Hell, they could _all_ be poison." He sighed and then shrugged a second time. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Bottoms up."

Harry downed the small amount of potion in one swift movement to prevent himself from second guessing himself and chickening out. He waited for several seconds after swallowing and though he felt as though ice was flooding his body, he didn't drop over dead so he figured that he was safe.

Unless of course it was a slow-acting poison designed torture its drinker to death.

Hmm, that was almost enough to make him wish he'd been attending potions class. No, actually, it wasn't. But the thought _was_ enough to cause him to decide to begin studying potions and poisons on his own. Perhaps he could pour some kind of potion that tasted like an easily recognizable poison into Snape's drink and cause the man to have a mental breakdown.

Pushing his thoughts away, Harry took a deep breath and then stepped through the flames. Though he could feel flames licking his body, he couldn't feel any heat and he wasn't hurt. Harry released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. Good; definitely safe.

For a moment Harry could see nothing but the dark fire, then he was on the other side, in the last chamber. This one was about the same size as the one that'd held the troll, but fortunately held no furious, bloodthirsty creatures. Instead there was only one object sitting in the middle of the room: A mirror. It was tall, more than twice his height, Harry guessed, with an ornately decorated gold frame that stood on two clawed feet.

Frowning, Harry warily approached the mirror. All of the other chambers had had dangerous defenses, so what did this mirror do? Harry started to edge around the mirror, keeping it in his sights at all time, but then suddenly froze upon realizing that there was no other door in the room besides the one he'd entered.

Harry's frown transformed into a scowl. Che, it figured that there'd be no way out. But then, what was the mirror for? He just couldn't believe that all of the other chambers had been leading up to _this_.

Before Harry's thoughts could go any farther however, he was broken from his reverie by the sound of a gasp behind him. Whirling around, he found a surprised and angry Professor Quirrell standing just past the doorway to the last chamber.

"Potter!"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Professor? What are you doing here?" It was clear from the man's surprise that he hadn't been looking for him.

"You-- The dragon...?!"

Huh, Harry thought while tilting his head to the side curiously. He was used Quirrell stuttering, but this spluttering was new. Finally the older man managed to pull himself together. He didn't act nervous the way he usually did, but rather sneered at Harry.

"Yes, well, I suppose you were expecting Snape, right?" he asked. "No one would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"...Er, what?"

Quirrell paused, as if confused. Clearly this whole "evil speech" thing wasn't going as he'd planned. And even though Harry's mind was working in overdrive to figure out exactly what was going on, he wasn't going to make it easy for the man, not when it was so obvious that something big was going on.

"Uh, well, you suspected Snape, right?" Quirrell questioned. "After how much he hates you, it would have made sense to you. He _does_ seem the type to try to steal the Stone, no?"

"...I seriously have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

Quirrell face contorted in rage. "Silence!" he hissed. "You can't tell me that you don't know that Dumbledore hid the Stone here! Not after you got past all those defenses."

Harry shrugged. "Eh, I got trapped down here after that whole dragon fiasco," he replied. And, now that he thought about it, Quirrell _hadn't_ been with the other teachers who'd been trying to capture the dragon. "I was hoping that this would eventually lead to a passage out of here. Shows just how bad my luck is..."

"Er..." Quirrell hesitated for a moment, staring at him. Eventually however his impatience got the best of him. "Out of my way, boy! I have more important things to deal with than your nonsense," he snapped while stalking forward.

To Harry's surprise, Quirrell approached the large mirror and began tapping his way around the frame. He was muttering to himself and the bits that Harry could catch didn't make any sense to him.

Finally Harry's curiosity got the best of him. "What's this stone you keep mentioning?" he asked.

"The Philosopher's Stone, you fool boy!" Quirrell snapped. "I _know_ that Dumbledore hid it here, especially considering the lengths he went to protect it...Now keep quiet! ...I don't understand, is the Stone _inside_ the mirror?"

Harry rolled his eyes as the man went back to his mutterings. Still, that small bit of information helped to put together all the puzzle pieces. From what Harry could tell, this "Philosopher's Stone" was being hidden in this room. Quirrell was attempting to steal the stone and had for some reason expected Harry to know about it...But why?

"What does the mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

To Harry's shock and horror--a combination he'd been feeling a lot that day, much to his annoyance. How many surprises could one day hold?--a voice answered, and the voice seemed come from Quirrell himself. It seemed that insanity was catching if he was finally hearing voices.

"Use the boy...Use the boy..." the voice said. It was hoarse as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

Immediately Quirrell rounded on Harry. "Yes--Potter--come here."

Harry stared at him. Oh yes, he was going to go near a complete _psychopath_ who was making _both_ of them hear voices. Unfortunately Quirrell's glare told him that he didn't have a choice in the matter, so Harry hesitantly shuffled forward to stand next to Quirrell in front of the mirror.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see," the rouge professor instructed.

Harry raised one eyebrow at the man, but finally shrugged and did as he'd asked. "I see...my reflection?" Quirrell scowled at him so Harry rolled his eyes. "What? What the bloody hell else am I supposed to see? It's a fucking _mirror_."

After rolling his eyes for a second time, Harry glanced back at the mirror. Instantly he froze when he saw his reflection move while he himself stayed still. The reflection smirked slyly at him before it put its hand into its pocked and pulled out a blood-red stone. Its smirk widened as it put the stone back into its pocket--and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket.

Harry barely managed to stop himself from jumping. What the hell was that? He almost reached for the stone, but didn't. He knew instinctually that saying anything about it would be a very _bad_ idea. He also knew that he needed to think of some way to get away from Quirrell, so he did the only thing he could think of to stall for time.

In an instant, Harry whipped out his wand and moved to stand half behind the mirror. "Don't move," he snarled, "Or I'll destroy the mirror and you'll never get this 'stone'."

Quirrell stared at him, shocked by his boldness. The expression quickly changed to rage. He fingered his wand quietly while glaring at the boy.

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed.

"Try me," Harry said shortly. "Unlike you, I have no need for this 'stone'. Hell, I don't even know what it is."

Quirrell opened his mouth to reply, but before he could that hoarse voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him..." it rasped, "...Face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell gasped.

Harry twitched slightly. Master? This was beginning to get more than a little creepy. He'd suspect that Quirrell was schizophrenic if he couldn't hear the voice as well. Did that mean that they were hallucinating together? Oh, wait; this was the wizarding world, where _everyone_ was insane.

Harry was torn from his thoughts when he noticed that Quirrell was beginning to unwrap that strange, smelly turban that he always wore. The turban finally fell away and Quirrell slowly turned on the spot.

Harry's eyes instantly shot wide open with shock. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the more terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but found his legs wouldn't move. He knew instinctively who this was: Voldemort.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor...I form only when I can share another's body...but there have always been those willing to let me into their hears and minds...Unicorn blood had strengthened me, these past weeks...and once I have the Elixir of Life, created by the stone, I will be able to create a body of my own...Better save your own life and join me...or you'll meet the same end as your parents..."

What happened next, Harry would never entirely remember. All he knew was that one moment he'd been standing and talking to Voldemort when suddenly Quirrell had screamed out a warning. The professor had dived to the side, just barely dodging a spell that proceeded to smash into the mirror. The mirror seemed to glow for a moment before abruptly exploding outwards in a shower and glass and metal that painfully slammed Harry back into the far wall of the chamber.

Then everything went black.

* * *

A/N: (**whistles**) Wow, that was one hell of an action-packed chapter. Fun to write though. All of my personal grievances with the so-called "defenses" for the Stone will be addressed in the next chapter, when Harry had a rather...interesting...conversation with Dumbledore.

Alright, time for a minor explanation for some of the things in this chapter. First, the corridor leading to the Devil's Snare. I added in this extra, hidden corridor because it seems to me that there _has_ to be some sort of other passageway other than the trapdoor; how else would teachers get in and out? They _could_ use brooms, but somehow I doubt it.

Second, the flying over the chess board thing. I believe that this could be what Quirrel did in the canon because when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered that chamber none of the chess pieces were broken as they would have been had Quirrel played his way across. It's possible that he undid the enchantments or something, but if that was true they'd probably still have been undone when Harry and the others came across them.

Please review!

--S.R.

* * *

Rant #4: One thing that's always struck me as strange is Quirrell's actions in the very end of the book. After Voldemort reveals that Harry had the Stone and tells Quirrell to get him, the professor tries to physically grab Harry twice before finally attempting to use his wand. Why the hell didn't he use magic in the first place? It would have been incredibly easy for Quirrell to use the killing curse, or even a stunner or some other immobilization spell. Hell, he'd even apparently used wandless magic earlier when binding Harry! ("Quirrell snapped his finger. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.") There are a lot of inconsistencies in Harry Potter, but this one really doesn't even make sense. As a wizard, Quirrell _should_ have thought to use magic before physical force.

I suppose that J.K.R. did what she did in order to allow Harry to defeat Quirrell with the whole burning thing (which, by the way, is _never_ actually explained beyond that whole "love burned him" bullshit, and even _that_ was never completely explained). But really, couldn't she have come up with something at least vaguely realistic? Even something like having Harry knock the wand from his hand in the struggle probably would have worked.


	7. Chapter 7: Conversing with Vampires

Title: Searching for Disaster: Conversing with Vampires  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: coarse language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 3,626  
First Written: August 11, 2008  
Last Edited: September 15, 2008  
Posted: September 15, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 7  
_Conversing with Vampires_

* * *

The first thing that Harry noticed upon waking was that his head hurt. Actually it felt more as though someone had used it for football practice, with his head as the ball. Harry groaned and held his head in one hand as he sat up in bed.

"Awake, finally?" a voice to his right asked.

Harry jumped slightly in surprise. His head whipped around to the speaker and he found that Daphne was sitting in a chair next to the bed he was in. She didn't even glance at him, instead focusing all of her attention on the book in her hand.

Harry relaxed only ever so slightly at the sight of a familiar face. Glancing around and seeing a sea of white walls and furniture, he realized that he was probably in the hospital wing. He himself was lying--well, half sitting up now--on a bed with white linen sheets.

Harry moved his head a little too quickly and found that the motion sent sharp stabs of pain throughout his body. He grunted and gripped his head a little tighter.

"Damn," Harry grumbled, "I feel like I got hit by a bus."

"You might as well have," Daphne commented dryly. "You apparently got caught in the aftermath of a spell gone wrong."

Harry frowned, hazily remembering the events following his fall though the hole in the dungeons. _Through the rabbit hole_, he though sardonically. And truly, the events down in the chambers _had_ felt like a dream. Even for the wizarding world the things he'd seen there had been bizarre.

"Who cast that spell?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore. From what I've heard he stopped Professor Quirrell and then brought your unconscious body back here. He still hasn't released any details about precisely what he stopped Professor Quirrell from doing."

Here Daphne's eyes finally lifted from her book and came to rest on Harry. The young wizard only just barely stopped himself from flinching under her calculating gaze. Slytherin indeed.

Suddenly Daphne's eyes snapped over to the door to the hospital wing. Confused, Harry followed her gaze, but couldn't find what had caught her attention. He glanced back at the Slytherin when she smoothly stood, snapping her book shut as she did so. Daphne gave him a cool nod and then left without a word.

The door had only just closed behind Daphne when it opened again, this time admitting a certain silver haired headmaster. Harry groaned quietly.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said jovially. Harry twitched at the endearment. "I'm glad to see that you're finally awake."

Harry coolly assessed the older wizard. "...Headmaster," he said finally. "What brings you here? ...Sir." The last part was clearly added on as an afterthought. Dumbledore, however, didn't seem to notice or else ignored it for the time being.

"I wanted to see how you were feeling. You've been unconscious for three days, you know. I also hoped to have a chance to speak with you," he replied.

Harry raised one eyebrow. "And how did you know that I was awake?"

"There are monitoring charms around your bed," Dumbledore answered without missing a beat.

To be honest, Harry was shocked that Dumbledore had admitted such a thing. The man struck him as being more manipulating than that. Just what were his motives?

"I wanted to know when you woke," the headmaster continued, "So that I could speak with you as soon as possible about what's happened."

"And what has happened, _sir_?"

For the first time Dumbledore hesitated, though he quickly covered it up with another smile. "Tell me, what do you know about the Philosopher's stone.

"Well," Harry began with a frown. "I know that it was what Quirrell was trying to get it for Voldemort. He was apparently convinced that it was inside the mirror." Harry snorted, showing just how much he thought of that. He dutifully ignored the fact that he'd basically seen the Stone transferred from the mirror to his pocket. "Other than that, I've never heard of it before. Though...Voldemort--or at least I assume that it was Voldemort--mentioned something about creating a body from the 'Elixir of Life'."

Dumbledore frowned, clearly concerned. "Then it is as I feared," he said with a sigh. "Voldemort is indeed still alive and looking to make a full comeback. As for the Philosopher's Stone...It belonged to a good friend and mentor of mine named Nicholas Flamel and is an object used in alchemy. It can create the Elixir of Life, which gives its drinker eternal life, and can turn anything to gold. I am afraid, however, that the Stone was destroyed when the Mirror of Erised exploded."

Harry glanced sharply at Dumbledore. Destroyed with the mirror? But hadn't it been in his pocket at the time? Had the backlash of the spell destroyed it or did the headmaster just not know that Harry had gotten it?

"Destroyed?" he asked blankly, hoping to find some answers.

"Yes. Nicholas and I have ahd a little chat since then, and agreed that it's all for the best. He and his wife have enough of the Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then I'm afraid that they will die."

Harry's eyes shot up in surprise. "But, if he created the Philosopher's Stone once, then couldn't he create another?" he asked.

"He could," Dumbledore agreed. "But he won't. To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible--" Again Harry snorted. "--But to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all--the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Harry's frown deepened. He supposed he could see what Dumbledore meant, but he still couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. For someone like him, who had struggled just to survive for as long as he could remember, actually _wanting_ to die was a completely foreign concept.

"Why was the Stone here to begin with," Harry asked slowly. "Why was it in Hogwarts?"

"Nicolas and I had had a suspicion that Voldemort was after the Stone, so I agreed to take it to Hogwarts to keep it safe. All of the chambers before the one holding the Stone were defenses to prevent Quirrell from getting to it."

"Fat load of good that did," Harry muttered with a snort. "No _disrespect_, but I, a _first year_, was able to get past them without too much difficulty, and I hadn't even been trying to get the Stone."

Dumbledore shifted uneasily. "Yes well, the mishap with the dragon was unfortunate," he said. "But had you not fallen into the warded corridor leading to the Stone than you would have had to get past Fluffy first."

"Fluffy?"

Dumbledore's twinkle came back in full force. "Yes, Fluffy. He's Hagrid's Cerberus--a giant three headed dog. He guarded a trapdoor that led to the chamber with the Devil's Snare."

"Yeah, well that Devil's Snare is your first problem," Harry replied. "I suppose it could trap someone, but we first years were taught about it just after Christmas, so almost _every_ witch or wizard should know how to take care of it, let alone a Professor like Quirrell or a supposed "Dark Lord" like Voldemort.

"The room with the keys was rather pathetic to, if I may say so. It could have worked, except that I managed to pick the lock easily enough. It would have been smarter to, one: Charm the lock against lock picking; and two: Don't actually have the correct key in the room. That way Quirrell would have spent a bunch of time searching for a key that wasn't there."

Dumbledore blinked, surprised. "Oh," he said, sounding rather put out. "I...I suppose I hadn't thought of that..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "The chess room was pretty good, except that only the board was charmed. It would have worked better had you had the entire back half of the room as an 'activation point' rather than just the back half of the board. Plus it would have been smarter to _not_ have brooms in the previous room. It's like basically giving the intruder or whatever a tool to use to get by.

"The troll, I'll admit, was a really good defense. It almost flattened me several times." Here Dumbledore winced as though the thought physically pained him. "The potion chamber could have worked too, except for how you left clues as to which bottle was which. It would have been smarter to leave them unlabeled. Or maybe to have to clues, but to have all the bottles contain poisons. That way you would lull the drinker into a false sense of security."

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore actually chuckled in amusement. "Valid points, my mere dear boy," he said in amusement. Harry twitched again. "However, there is still one small problem: How would I get to the Stone when I needed to?"

Harry stared at him as if the answer was painfully obvious, which to him it was. "Have the key for the key room," he replied bluntly. "Bring a broom with you to get past the chess room, and carry the potion that lets you get through the fire with you. That way only you and no one else could get past the defenses. Though, to be honest, having the Stone here in a school full of _children_ seems more than a bit odd to me. It's just asking for trouble, especially if you knew that _Voldemort_ was going to come after it. Were you trying to get us all killed?"

"I saddened that you do not have much faith in me," Dumbledore said, and he did indeed look saddened and disappointed. For a moment Harry felt guilt swell up within him, but then he ruthlessly squashed it and replaced it with anger. How dare the old man try to make him feel as though _he'd_ been in wrong when it was the _headmaster_ who had placed them all in danger!

And so, instead of feeling guilty, Harry just stared rather blankly at Dumbledore. "...This year Hogwarts was attacked by a troll, a dragon, and _Voldemort_. Forgive me if I don't more bloody faith," he growled. "Speaking of which, you're the one that cast the spell that destroyed the mirror, right? So then technically _you're_ the reason I'm here in the hospital wing."

Again Dumbledore winced before his serene smile came back in full force. "Yes, I'm afraid that you were caught in the crossfire," he replied. _Crossfire?!_ Harry wanted to scream. There had been no crossfire; just a single spell. "Unfortunately, when I arrived in the chamber containing the mirror all I saw was Quirrell standing with his back to the mirror. I assume now that you were hiding behind it, but at the time...Well it is indeed regrettable that Quirrell dodged."

"Right," Harry ground out. Granted, he remember that he _had_ indeed been standing behind the mirror, but it still would have been smarter for Dumbledore to have used some other spell. It was almost as though he'd _wanted_ to destroy the mirror. "Where did that dragon come from?" he asked suddenly. "I imagine that Quirrell let it into the school as a distraction, but..."

"I'm afraid that Quirrell had nothing to do with that," Dumbledore said quietly. "Rather he just took advantage of the situation. That dragon was a three month old Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norbert...Hagrid had been raising him on the edge of the forbidden forest without my knowledge or consent.

"Unfortunately, in light of these events I've had no choice but to fire him from his post. I know that the two of you were friends, but Hagrid won't be able to return to Hogwarts."

Harry frowned slightly, unsure about how he felt about this turn of events. He most certainly would never call Hagrid a friend of his, but he also didn't hate the man. Still, if Hagrid truly had been trying to raise that dragon, then maybe this was for the best.

Dumbledore and Harry spoke for only a few more minutes before the door suddenly slammed open. Zacharias took several hurried steps into the infirmary before he abruptly froze upon noticing Dumbledore. The headmaster simply smiled, that ever-present twinkle in his eye brightening. "I believe I'll take my leave now," he said jovially and then swept from the room.

For several seconds after Dumbledore's departure silence pervaded the room. Zacharias stood awkwardly a few feet from Harry's bed, looking as though he was unsure of what to do with himself. Finally he trotted over to stand next to Harry.

"I...Daphne told me that you were awake," he said quietly.

Harry's brow furrowed. He'd been unaware that Zacharias and Daphne had even met, let along were on friendly terms. The room fell in to awkward silence once more, but Harry did nothing to break it. He could tell from Zacharias' nervous shifting that he had something to get off his chest and it would only take time for the boy to gather up the courage.

"Thank you," Zacharias abruptly blurted out. "For saving me, I mean. I-- I just froze up. I couldn't move at and then the next thing I knew I was safe and you were gone. Professor Sprout managed to get me to safety before the rest of the floor collapsed, but..." He gulped. "We, we though you were dead, you know. That fall and then all those pounds of stone...How did you survive?"

"Magic," Harry replied dryly.

Zacharias let out a bark of laughter that held a slightly hysterical edge. "W-we're not supposed to deal with stuff like this, you know," he continued while spreading his arms in an encompassing gesture. "This, the forest, the dragon...We're only eleven for Merlin's sake!" Zacharias shook his head wordlessly, unable to say anything else.

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah, well one year olds aren't supposed to deal with psychopathic Dark Lords either. It seems to me that the wizarding world is more dangerous than most people give it credit for."

"...Are you considering leaving Hogwarts?"

Harry chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. "No," he said finally. "At this point, after all the dangers that I've faced, it'd be very easy for me to leave Hogwarts, or even the wizarding world all together. But I won't. The temptation to learn magic is just too great, even with all of the insanity enshrouding it. I suppose I could rather easily go to another magical school, but what assurances would I have that it would be any better--or safer--than Hogwarts? And besides, I have the upper hand here now. I'm the 'victim' and as such no one can safely prosecute me, no matter what I do. Dumbledore knows this, the media knows this, and _I_ know this.

"As for the whole danger aspect...I've don't a lot of thinking about that and have realized that, while it's dangerous, I could just as easily get hit by a bus in the muggle world as I could be attacked by a dragon here. I think I'd prefer to stay and learn magic so that I can better protect myself."

Zacharias blinked a couple of time as he processed all of this. "That's...interesting. But it makes sense." Suddenly he jumped slightly, as if remembering something. He quickly pulled out a rolled up newspaper that had been tucked away in his robe and handed it Harry. "Here's yesterday's paper. I thought that you might be interested to read it; there are several articles about Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and Hagrid in there. You've caused quite a stir. Oh, and before I forget, I believe that this is yours." As he spoke, Zacharias pulled another abject out of this pocket: A fist sized blood red stone.

A gasp slipped between Harry's lips and his hand instantly shot out to grab the stone. He turned it over in his hands a couple of times, looking it over, but there was no mistaking it. It was the Philosopher's Stone.

"I was already here when Dumbledore brought you into the hospital wing," Zacharias explained. "It was in your pocket, so I figured I'd take it for safekeeping before any of the professors could see it."

Slowly a wide smirk spread out across Harry's face. This was perfect. No, this was _beyond_ perfect. Harry had no intention of using the Stone for himself--he had more than enough money and eternal life didn't sound all that desirable at the moment; he was only eleven, after all. No, Harry was overjoyed for one simple reason: In his possession, the Stone the perfect piece of leverage. With it--and what Harry could do with it--hanging over Dumbledore's head, he could potentially get the man to do anything. Of course, he'd only reveal that he had it as a last resort.

"Thanks, Zack," Harry said with a grin.

The dark haired boy shrugged while replying with a grin of his own. "No problem. And really, the main reason I came here was to thank _you_. I'm in your debt now, after everything that's happened."

* * *

Before Harry knew it, he was on the train to return to London. He'd been discharged from the hospital the same day he woke up with a clean bill of health. Following that it'd only been a few days before the end of term.

Harry sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts' Express with Daphne and Zacharias. As usual Daphne had her nose buried in some book--this one with a title in French. Zacharias was animatedly chatting about something or other while Harry listened with a half an ear.

The green-eyed boy was starting dispassionately out at the countryside as it passed by. Honestly, he was beginning to dread going back to his relatives. Hogwarts may have been one fucked up place, but at least he was relatively free there.

When the train finally pulled into King's Cross station Harry, Daphne, and Zacharias said their goodbyes and then went there separate ways. Harry began to push his way through the crowd, but didn't get more than five frrt when he was intercepted by a particular blonde haired wizard. Harry released a sigh before quickly pasting a smile onto his face.

"Malfoy!" he greeted. "It's good to see you again!"

"Don't give me that bull!" the other boy snarled angrily. "I know you're Harry Potter! How dare you try to trick _me_--"

"Why, Malfoy, I'm really not sure what you're talking about," Harry said, feigning confusion. His eyes quickly swept through the crowd around him before landing on just the person he was looking for. Harry had to fight down a smirk. "Oh, I'm afraid that I'll have to cut this conversation short; my father is here."

Malfoy froze for a moment before following Harry's line of sight to a figure that was leaning against a nearby wall. It was a rather tall man with broad shoulder and a defined face. Long, black hair was tied back from his face at the nape of his neck and a pair of dark eyes coolly surveyed the crowd and students and parents. He looked just like what one would expect of a vampire.

Malfoy gulped nervously as his eyes slipped back to Harry. "I-- Er, I mean...Sorry, Tepes," he finished lamely.

Harry smiled understandingly and then, without a word, began to walk straight towards the dark man. He could feel Malfoy's embarrassed and confused gaze burning into his back.

"Hello sir," Harry said jovially as he stopped in front of the dark man. "I couldn't help but notice you standing here. Do you mind if I join you?"

The man slowly raised one eyebrow in question. Harry's smirk widened marginally. Now to add the finishing touch...

"Forgive me if this seems a little odd, but would you mind if I introduce you to someone?"

The man's other eyebrow quickly joined the first. He didn't look annoyed though--if anything he was amused. Finally he shrugged nonchalantly and pushed himself off the wall. Harry turned on his heel and began to lead the man back through the crowds and over to where Malfoy was still standing, staring open-mouthed at Harry. The dark haired boy smiled politely the blonde, though on the inside he was jumping with joy.

"Malfoy, I'd like to introduce you to my father, Count Vlad Tepes the Third," he said. "Father, this is Draco Malfoy."

A slow smirk crossed the face of "Count Tepes". He reached out and shook a stunned and terrified Malfoy's hand. "A pleasure, I'm sure," he murmured quietly.

Malfoy barely managed to stutter something in reply before he turned and fled. He even tripped over his cloak a few times in his haste, which was only a bonus in Harry's book. Harry was just turning to thank the dark man for playing along when a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"...Harry? What are you doing?"

Surprised, Harry glanced back over his shoulder, only to find Zacharias standing there with a puzzled expression. The other boy glanced between Harry and the dark man for a moment before finally sighing. Despite his apparent exasperation however, the corners of his lips were curling up in the beginnings of a smirk.

"The Tepes thing again?" Zacharias asked. "Yeah, well, I guess my father is kind of vampire-ish."

Harry couldn't help it: He threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

A/N: Well this took longer than I expected it to. I've actually had it sitting around on my computer half-finished for about a month. School, work, and friends have been pulling me in a thousand different directions though, so I've barely had time to touch a computer, let alone write.

Because it will never be mentioned in the story, let me explain how Harry got the Stone. As we all know, in the canon Harry got the Stone from the mirror because his deepest desire at that moment was to save the Stone from Voldemort's clutches. In this story, the reasoning behind it is in two parts: One, his deepest desire is to survive and, as is previously mention, the Stone is like the ultimate leverage--If he ever really needs to convince Dumbledore to do or not do something, all he has to do is threaten to give the stone to Voldemort. Two, his deepest desire at that very moment was to figure out what the hell was going on. And thus we have the Stone.

The "Golden Trio" elements that seemed present in this chapter--mainly in the end on the train--really made be cringe. Things won't stay that way for very long though, so don't worry. I should probably also mention that this story will be getting progressively darker as Harry grows up and the storyline progresses. I'll be moving through the next couple years of schooling pretty quickly so that we can get to the main plot.

Please review!

--S.R.


	8. Chapter 8: The House Elf

Title: Searching for Disaster: The House-Elf  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: coarse language, adult themes, spoilers  
Word Count: 5,503  
First Written: September 15, 2008  
Last Edited: October 14, 2008  
Posted: October 14, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

* * *

Searching for Disaster

Chapter 8  
_The House-Elf_

* * *

The first part of the summer passed in a blur to Harry. His relatives were about as happy to see him as he was to see them, but they mostly just ignored each other. Harry had taken to locking himself in his room and pouring over his books. The rune one that he'd received for Christmas was proving to be particularly interesting. It was akin to learning a new language, except that the language was in terms of magic.

Strangely enough, by half way through the summer Harry hadn't received a single letter from either Daphne or Zacharias, despite their promises to write. He felt only the very beginnings of hurt before he ruthlessly squashed it beneath pounds of built up antipathy.

About a week after his twelfth birthday, Harry spent an entire evening outdoors. His relatives were having some fancy dinner party--Harry didn't care enough to learn the details--and so through mutual silent agreement Harry left the house. His relatives didn't want him there to "mess things up" and he had no interest whatsoever in joining them. And so instead Harry wandered over to the nearby park, found a nice tree to sit under, and then proceeded to bury himself in his runes book.

Just as it began to grow dark, Harry was startled by a rustling in the bushes in front of him. His head shot up, surprised, and then his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Who's there?" he growled.

In response the bushes stilled. For a moment there was silence and then out stepped a small green creature with bulging eyes the size of tennis balls and floppy, bat-like ears. Harry stared at the...thing...in horrified shock. Then he did something that no one would have expected: He titled his head back and grinned triumphantly.

"I knew it! Aliens do exist!"

"A-alien, Mister Harry Potter sir?"

For a second time, Harry jumped in surprise. He stared at the green creature suspiciously. "Eh? How do you know my name?"

"So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir!" the creature babbled. It bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose brushed the grass. "Such an honor it is..." Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes. It was strange attire for an alien, he thought, but then he knew little of otherworldly fashion.

"What do you want with me?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Dobby has some to tell you, sir...it is difficult, sir...Dobby wonders where to begin..."

"Er-- right," Harry replied. He eyed the way Dobby, the creature, was wringing its strange hat warily. "Well, start with something easier then, such as who you are."

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

Harry felt a small part of him die in that moment. He'd read about house-elves, the servants of wizards, before. "Not an alien then," he muttered dejectedly. "Curses..."

Dobby hesitated, unsure what to make of this. As if to override his confusion, the house-elf suddenly blurted out, "Dobby must protect Harry Potter! Dobby has come to warm him that _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts_."

Harry stared blankly at Dobby. "Er, what?" Because the house-elf couldn't have just said what he'd thought he'd said. "_Why_?"

"Harry Potter is a great wizard," Dobby said while gulping nervously. "He has already triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named _twice_. He must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

Harry snorted. "Of _course_ I'll be danger there," he agreed. "That place is a walking time bomb. Safest place in Britain my ass..."

Dobby faltered, surprised into silence once more. Harry was proud to say that he often had that kind of an affect on people--or elves, as the case was. That this particular creature seemed to have some sort of a celebrity crush on him--a thought that made him shudder and was sure to give him nightmares for months--only made it even worse.

"There is plot," Dobby continued after a moment. He looked unsure about what he was saying now. "A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. Dobby had known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril! He is too important."

"They shouldn't you go to the authorities?" Harry asked with a single arched eyebrow. "You know, to warn _them_, the ones who can actually _do_ something about it?"

Dobby looked positively horrified. "Oh, _no_, sir. Dobby couldn't. Dobby will already have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. But Dobby could _never_ betray his family--"

Harry frowned, remembering how house-elves' will was bound to the family they served. It sounded like some twisted form of slavery to Harry, but he didn't know enough about the subject to judge it yet. Still something serious must be about to happen, for Dobby to risk going against his master's word to warn him. And that brought up the question of just who Dobby's master _was_. Dumbledore, perhaps?

Harry's thoughts abruptly ground to halt as something that Dobby'd been blathering on about while trying to convince him not to go to Hogwarts reached his ears.

"Wait, _what_? What did you just say?"

Dobby hesitated. "That He-Who-Must-Not--"

"No, no," Harry said impatiently. "Before that. About friends who don't write to me."

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best--" And instantly everything snapped together in Harry's mind.

"_Have you been stopping my letters?_"

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. He pulled a thick wad of envelopes form the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Daphne's neat writing on one of them.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry..." Dobby said while blinking anxiously up at Harry. "...Dobby hoped...if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him...Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..."

Harry snorted derisively. "That might have worked had I actually cared about having friends," he muttered. He leaned back against the tree behind him, looking resigned, but on the inside his mind was working furiously, a plan forming. After all, withholding mail from its receiver had to be illegal in the wizarding world too. "But I can understand where you're coming from. Maybe going back this year isn't such a good idea."

Harry made a show of nibbling on his bottom lip as if he was honestly considering it. After a moment he lifted his eyes from the grass to look at Dobby.

"I think...I think that might be best," he said hesitantly, and Dobby nodded eagerly. "But...If I do leave I'll need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Harry Potter, sir!"

"Well, the father of a friend of mine will be able to help me drop out. Would you mind accompanying me to his house?"

"Well," Dobby said hesitantly. "Dobby supposes he could...So long as no one knows! Dobby can lead Harry Potter to Harry Potter's friend's father so long as Dobby has the name. Dobby can take Harry Potter sir on Knight Bus."

Harry frowned at the unfamiliar name. "Knight Bus...?"

"Yes, yes!" Dobby's head dipped up and down quickly, doing a fair impression of a bobble-head doll. "It's the way wizards get around London."

"...Right. Well, let's get going then, shall we?"

--

The pale face of Haemon, Zacharias' father, was pulled into a frown as he stared down at the unconscious body of Dobby the house-elf. A wave of his wand ensured that the small being was bound with magical enhanced ropes. Only then did the older wizard look up at Harry.

"You did the right thing by leading him here, Harry," Haemon murmured. "He was blocking your mail, you say?"

Harry flashed his friend's father a grin as his legs swung back and forth beneath him from his seat on one of the Smith's living room chairs. "Yessir! He outright admitted that he'd been doing it since the beginning of summer. You'll find the letter in his...pillowcase. He kept on prattling on about not letting me go to Hogwarts 'cause I'd be 'in danger'."

Haemon's frown deepened. "Well you were certainly right in that such an action is illegal, even for house-elves."

"That's why I came to you. Since you're a lawyer and all."

Haemon nodded absently, still staring down at Dobby. It was lucky that he had quick enough reflexes to knock the elf out the moment Harry told him what was going on. Dobby had only had enough time to look at Harry in surprise before he was out like a light. The bonds Haemon had put on him would ensure that he would not be able to escape even once he'd woken up.

"So you had a deranged house-elf stalking you?" Zacharias asked curiously, his head titled to one side. The boy was seated next to Harry, watching the proceedings with open amusement.

Harry shuddered in response to the question. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "The poor thing seemed to be star stuck or something, I swear. Kind of like one of those crazy fans who kill the person they admire. I honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he'd eventually hurt me for 'my own good'."

"Well he won't be a problem now," Haemon said firmly. "We'll take him to the Ministry of Magic in the morning to get everything sorted out. But it's late already now, so perhaps you should stay the night, Harry."

"That's not a problem," Harry replied with a shrug. "My relatives won't care." At Haemon's questioning frown, he elaborated. "We don't exactly get along. They tend to abhor anything even vaguely magical or 'weird' and I enjoy rubbing my own weirdness into their faces. They won't go looking for me unless I don't turn up for a week, trust me."

"I would still feel better informing them," Haemon said with a shake of his head. "I shall send an owl at least."

Harry repressed a malicious smirk. "Sure. That works just fine."

Haemon nodded, flicked his wand, and then began to levitate Dobby out of the room.

--

Staying with the Smiths was interesting, to say the least. Zacharias and his father lived in a medium sized house in downtown London. The house was furnished in an older style that most wizarding places seemed to have and had no electricity, but outside its walls was a muggle neighborhood. Harry wondered if that was how most wizards lived; both isolated from and connected to the muggle world.

Zacharias' mother had apparently died when he was young, leaving Haemon to raise Zacharias on his own. Neither Zacharias nor his father offered and explanation as to the circumstances of her death and Harry didn't ask. It wasn't his place to

The only other thing that Harry knew about the Smiths was that Haemon was a lawyer. Harry had at been surprised to learn that the wizarding world _had_ lawyers when Zacharias had first told him some months ago, but it made sense nonetheless. After all, any society with laws had to have some way to uphold those laws.

It was because of this that the moment Harry'd realized that what Dobby had done was illegal, Haemon had popped into his mind. While Harry himself had no way to subdue the house-elf, Haemon was a fully trained wizard as well as a lawyer. All he'd had to do was lead Dobby to them man under the assumption that he was going to pull out of Hogwarts--and thank Merlin the elf had been so naïve and had such a bad case of hero-worship or else it wouldn't have worked--and Dobby was no longer a problem.

The morning following Dobby's "arrest" was a rush of preparation. Almost directly after breakfast Haemon gathered them all in front of the fireplace, a conscious, but silenced, Dobby floating at his side. The house-elf had wide, teary, and terrified eyes that almost struck a cord in Harry's heart before he roughly pushed the sensation away.

"Have you ever used Floo powder, Harry?" Haemon asked. As he spoke he picked up a stone jar holding silvery powder from the mantelpiece.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I know what it is and how to use it."

"Alright then. Zack, you go first and then Harry will follow."

Zacharias took a pinch of the Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. The moment it touched the hearth the fire roared and flared up bright green. Even though he'd read of the effects of Floo powder, Harry still couldn't help but be surprised. What was in the powder that actually allowed for transportation?

"Ministry of Magic!" Zacharias called out before he stepped into the flames and disappeared. Harry took and deep breath and then carefully repeated his friends actions.

It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast--the roaring in his ears was deafening--he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick--something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning--now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face--squinting though his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of rooms beyond--his stomach was churning violently--he closed his eyes again, wishing it would stop, then--

He fell, stumbling, out of the fire. He only just managed to catch himself before his nose hit smooth carpet. Horribly disoriented, Harry staggered to his feet. The ground jolted beneath him and he felt himself falling again, until a small pair of hands managed to grip his shoulders and steady him.

"Alright there, Harry?" Zacharias asked worriedly.

Harry took a few shaky breaths, willing his stomach to stop doing flips. Finally after several seconds he had his composure back enough to open his eyes. He found that Zacharias and Haemon were staring down at him with concern.

"Perhaps Floo travel is not the best method of transportation for you," Haemon murmured.

At first Harry didn't answer. Then, slowly, a wide grin spread across his face. "Are you kidding? That was bloody _awesome_! It's just like how I thought a rollercoaster would feel like!" Harry exclaimed. He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet from excitement; traveling through _fireplaces_ may have been down right strange, but it was also _fun_.

Haemon shook his head in amusement and finally allowed himself to relax. "If you say so," was his only reply.

Now that he was grounded, Harry took the chance to finally look around at their surroundings. They were standing in a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly board. Harry could recognize a few of them from his study of Ancient Runes, but not enough to make any sense of it. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them, just like the one Harry had excited from. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queue of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Even as Harry watched a tall, thin wizard tumbled from the fireplace next to him. Unlike Harry however, the man landed easily on his feet and then strode off with barely pause. The young wizard eyed him jealously and decided then and there that he'd learn how to keep his balance.

Almost directly in front of Harry there was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

Harry looked away with a snort and muttered under his breath about conceited, moronic wizards. He knew from personal experience that centaurs would never wear an expression even remotely close to adoration, and especially not when looking at a _wizard_. The portrayal of the house-elf didn't seem to far off though...

"This way," Haemon suddenly grunted.

The older man began to stride towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall and Harry and Zacharias had to hurry to keep up. They easily joined the throng, winding their way through the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the _London Wizarding Post_, the _Daily Prophet_, or a variety of other papers as they walked.

As they reached the end of the hall, Haemon stepped out the stream of Ministry employees and stopped in front of a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his _London Wizarding Post_.

"We're here to see Auror Esmond," Haemon said tersely. "It's regarding a matter of Law Enforcement."

"Step over here," the wizard said in bored voice. Though he did spare Dobby a curious glance, he asked no questions.

Harry and Zacharias walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry's front and back. He repeated the process with Zacharias and finally with Haemon.

"Wand," grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand.

Harry hesitated, but after receiving a reassuring nod from Haemon, he reluctantly drew his wand out and handed it over. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use for one year. That correct?"

"Yes," Harry growled. He felt strangely naked without his wand and realized with a start that he hadn't had it off his person while awake since he'd first gotten it. He was anxious to have it back already.

"I keep this," the security wizard said while impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.

Harry snatched the wand back, uncaring about whether he appeared rude or not. He quietly slipped it away as he watch the wizard repeat the same process with Zacharias' and then Haemon's wands. Once he was done, Haemon steered the two younger boys away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates and into a smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grills.

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them. The golden grill slid back, allowing Harry, Zacharias, Haemon, and numerous other witches and wizards entrance. The floating, frozen house-elf got a couple of odd looks, but, once again, no questioned them. The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while a cool female voice rang out.

"Level seven," it said, "Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office."

Harry stared incredulously into space at the sound of the last name. _Ludicrous Patents Office_? It was doubtless quite accurate, but to actually name the office that...? The lift doors opened and Harry glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls. Then the doors closed and the lifted jolted upwards again.

Finally, a couple minutes and several stops later, Harry, Zacharias, and Haemon were the only people left in the lift. The door juddered open again and the voice said, "Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

As Haemon led Harry and Zacharias out of the life and into a long hallway lined with doors, several paper airplanes that had been floating above their heads soared out past them. Harry just managed to catch sight of MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped along the edges of their wings and figured hat they were magical notes of some kind. Perhaps like muggle email? It was an interesting thought, to be sure.

The three of them headed down the hall, turned a corner, and then passed through a pair of heavy oak doors. Once through they emerged in a cluttered, open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of the cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read AUROR HEADQUARTERS.

Harry glanced curiously through the doorways as they passed. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favorite Quidditch teams and articles from the _London Wizarding Post_.

Haemon easily navigated through the chaos and approached a cubicle set up against one wall. A scarlet-robed man with a long, dark ponytail was sitting there with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. The rest of his desk was covered with stacks of papers and odd bobbles that Harry couldn't recognize, nor even begin to discern the purpose of.

Upon the entrance, the Auror glanced up in surprise, revealing steel colored eyes. In an instant the surprise turned to joy as their presence registered.

"Ah, Haemon!" the man exclaimed. He stood up and leaned over his desk to firmly clasp Zachariah's father's hands between his own. "How are you? And you're son of course."

"Good, good. And you, Esmond? It's been a while since I saw you last. The Algernon Trial, I believe. Anyway, I'm afraid that I'm here on business. My son's friend has charges that he wishes to press and I stand firmly behind him."

The other man jolted, surprised by the statement. His gaze landed on Harry and he peered down at the boy curiously before abruptly jerking back in shock.

"Well I'll be," he whispered, awed. "Harry Potter!"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Here they went again. At least his "fame" would actually be good for something this time.

--

Later that afternoon, Harry sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley, torn between feeling elated and worried. The events of that day had been strange at best and horrifying at worst. They'd also been a lot more complicated than Harry had originally expected.

Upon being told the details of what Dobby had done, Esmond immediately set upon taking care of the case. It seemed that Harry had made enough waves in school last year that the Ministry wanted to quickly take care of anything that could potential endanger him and, by connection, their reputation. Dobby had been questioned about his purposes and what he'd revealed had shocked all those present to hear.

As it would turn out, Dobby was actually the house-elf of Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's father. He hadn't been stopping Harry's mail on his master's order however; he truly had been doing to try to "protect" Harry. Apparently the elf had overheard the elder Malfoy talking releasing something into the school that year on Voldemort's orders.

Of course, in light of this an arrest warrant was immediately sent out for Malfoy, along with a squadron of Aurors, but as far as Harry had heard Malfoy was no where to be found. Harry had little doubt that the man had heard about his warrant the moment it was issued and had disappeared.

Another Auror squadron had also been dispatched to Hogwarts to scour the school for any possible dangers already there. The Ministry could not afford another disaster like the last year.

"Here you go, Harry, Zack," Haemon said, drawing Harry from his reverie. They young boy glanced up to see Haemon handing and ice cream cone to him and his son, who was sitting across from Harry. Harry accepted the ice cream with a calm nod.

"Well this has been interesting," Zacharias said with a grin. "Who knew that a single house-elf could cause such waves?"

"Mmm," Haemon hummed in agreement. His eyes were staring through the table, clearing lost in thought. "And this will doubtlessly make a bit more work for me. Though there will be no case against Dobby's master since he didn't order the stopping of your mail, the conformation of his dark allegiances are another topic altogether. The Ministry is going to have to meticulously go back through all of the trails that took place after the war, in order to find any other Death Eaters who were missed. This is going to be a political nightmare."

"Nightmare indeed," an amused voice spoke up from behind them. "But then, it seems that it is impossible for Mr. Potter to go anywhere without making waves in the political world."

While Haemon and Zacharias jerked in surprise, Harry didn't even look up from ice cream, clearly recognizing the voice. "Hello, Richard," he said calmly.

The reporter grinned widely. "Harry. I was hoping to get a chance to speak to you--but you probably already knew that."

"Of course." Harry spared an apologetic glance at Zacharias and his father. "Would you mind if we spoke in private for a bit?"

Haemon eyed Richard pensively before nodding. "Of course," he said finally. With one hand he gripped Zacharias' shoulders and began to steer him into the ice cream parlor. "Come, Zack. Shall we get another ice cream before we go?"

Zacharias opened his mouth to protest, but closed it just as quickly. His eyes lingered on Harry for a second, just as thoughtful as his father, before he nodded silently and allowed himself to be led away.

Once the father and son duo had disappeared into the dark recesses of the parlor, Richard smoothly slid into a seat across from Harry. The middle-aged man rested his chin in one hand and stared contemplatively at him for several minutes. Harry waited patiently for him to speak, content to savor his ice cream for the time being.

"You truly do make waves you know," Richard said out of the blue. Harry glanced up sharply, pausing in mid-lick. "You're just one of those people who can't help but do so," the man continued. He was staring up at the clear sky as if he'd find all of his answers there. "You draw people to you even when you do not mean to, like planets gravitating around the sun. Your every step has consequences."

Abruptly Richard sat up in his seat and brought his gaze down to meet Harry's. His ebony eyes bored into Harry's with a disturbing intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

"There is an anecdote," he continued, never blinking, "About a butterfly that flapped its wings and caused a hurricane on the other side of the world. Being who you are, you must be more careful than others. What may seem like a meaningless gesture to you could end up affecting us all. It is a heavy responsibility that you bear, to have the effect that you do, but there is little that you can do about it. You will end up changing this world, for better or for good, and whether you mean to or not. I recommend, from one acquaintance to another, that you are careful with any motion that you make."

Harry desperately wanted to tear his eyes away from Richard's, but found that he could not. The other man held his gaze for several more seconds, practically willing Harry's to understand his message with his eyes, before finally glancing away. As if someone unconscious spell had been broken, Harry finally looked down at his melting ice cream and gulped deeply. He noticed that his hands were shaking slightly and tried his best to quell the tremble.

"But that's not what I came to speak to you about," Richard said, his voice suddenly light again. Once again surprised, Harry glanced up to find that whatever intensity had previously gripped the reporter had passed. "I wish to speak with you about today's events. And, of course, to ensure that our agreement is still intact. The Minister is doubtless going to want to speak with you, sooner or later, in order to be seen in a good light by the public and I would like to make sure that I have exclusive rights to talk to you."

Harry titled his head to the side and pondered the wizard's words. "Exclusive rights?" he mused. "...Perhaps. But I will have to ask for something in return."

"Anything," Richard replied, his hands spread in an open gesture.

"The inside scoop. On everything. _Ahead_ of time, as in before any articles released. And that includes bits of information that you find that won't be in any articles.

Richard arched one eyebrow. "So you basically want me to become an informant?"

Harry shrugged and stayed silent. The man could interpret the request as he wanted.

After a moment of contemplation, Richard let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Alright, Mr. Potter," he said amusedly. "You have yourself a deal. Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"

--

It would be another half an hour before Richard left. As Harry sat, staring thoughtfully down at the table, Haemon and Zacharias finally emerged from the ice cream parlor.

"Had an interesting discussion?" Haemon inquired.

Harry shrugged, declining to give his thoughts on the matter. Zacharias peered at him curiously, but did not speak. In fact, he'd been unusually silent that whole day.

"Well then, is there anything else you'd like to do today, before I bring you back to your relatives'?"

Harry tapped his chin, considering the question. Slowly a wide grin took over his face and his eyes lit up with an unholy glee.

"As a matter of fact there is," he replied. "I'd like to get a pet."

Haemon's eyebrows rose at the strange and unexpected request, but he acquiesced easily enough. Not two minutes later they were standing outside the Magical Menagerie. As they stepped inside and were met with various yowls, scratches, and hoots, Harry could barely repress a delighted cackle. As it was Zacharias was beginning to eye him nervously.

Haemon and Zacharias stood back, watching on in amusement while Harry scoured the store top and bottom for an interesting pet. Finally he stopped in front of a cage containing what looked like an overgrown ferret. It had sleek brown fur that was speckled with white and glaring red eyes. As Harry watched it its mouth moved rapidly, as if chattering, but no sound came out.

"What's this?" Harry asked curiously.

The cashier, a young witch who looked to be just out of Hogwarts, sniffed haughtily. "That's a jarvey," she said, distaste clear in her voice. "Foul little creatures, but they're rather useful in chasing gnomes. This one was hit by a few spells, so it's even worse than usual--hence the silencing charms."

Harry cocked his head to the side, curiosity growing with every passing moment. "Silencing charms? Why?" he asked.

In reply, the woman wordless drew her wand and waved it at the cage. As though a thick curtain had been drawn back, sound began to issue forth.

"--Nasty little bastards," the jarvey was swearing violently, "Bloody, goat-fucking, toad licking, wart infested, sons of--"

With another wave of her wand, the sound was cut off again. The witch's face was twisted into a disgusted scowl, but Harry was absolutely delighted.

"I'll take him!" he exclaimed, to the woman's horror and Zacharias and Haemon's amusement.

"But-- You--" the woman spluttered. Harry easily waved off her protest. "Fine," she sulked.

Money passed hands and in only a few seconds Harry was holding the cage and peering interestedly at the jarvey. It had grown even more violent now that it was eye level with Harry and the young boy could practically hear it already.

"What are you going to name him?" Haemon asked through muffled chuckles.

Harry smirked, not taking his eyes away from his new pet. "I think I'll name him Voldemort."

It was worth it to see the witch feint, out cold, on the shop floor.

--

A/N: You have no idea how tempted I was to have Harry get a fluffy, white kitten with big, blue eyes and name it Voldemort.

But then, I was also very tempted to have Harry name the jarvey Malfoy since jarveys look like overgrown ferrets, but it wouldn't have been a joke to Harry since the "bouncing ferret" incident hasn't happened. Oh well. Oh, and congratulation to _White Mage Koorii_ and _noylj_ for guessing that the pet would be a jarvey! I have many plans for "Voldemort". (**cackles quietly**)

In a twist of irony that isn't really irony since it's intentional, Haemon basically means "bloody" in Greek. Also, the name Algernon from the "Algernon Trials" mentioned in this chapter is a bit of a joke that you'll probably only be able to get if you speak French. Or if you look up the entomology of the name.

_Anyway,_ as some of you may know, November is NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month. For those of you who are interested, you can find more info at _NanoWriMo(DOT)org_). I love to participate in it, so what I'll be doing is focusing on a single story for that month and working on it as much as I can. The question that comes up, however, is which story to work on, so I'll be present that question to you guys. **I've put a poll up in my profile and whichever story receives the most votes will be the one I work on.** The poll will be up until the end of October, at which time I'll announce the winner. Please vote!

--S.R.


	9. Chapter 9: The New Professor

Title: Searching for Disaster: The New Professor  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: coarse language, adult themes, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 3,347  
Story WC: 34,634  
First Written: October 14, 2008  
Last Edited: October 31, 2008  
Posted: October 31, 2008  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

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Searching for Disaster

Chapter 9  
_The New Professor_

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Harry casually stroked Voldemort, his jarvey, as he lay on his bed, reading a book. Early morning light streamed through his bedroom window, causing patterns to dance across his bed.

"Boy!" Vernon's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. "Get down here now or I won't be taking you!" His voice lowered into unintelligible grumbling as he stomped away.

Harry rolled his eyes and then snapped his book shut. He picked Voldemort up and set him onto his shoulder before proceeding to pick up his trunk and drag it down the stairs.

Voldemort got along surprisingly well with Harry--and only Harry. The jarvey was still under a silencing spell, but managed to make its feelings well-known regardless. Harry would love to scare the wits out of his relatives with a talking ferret--though, granted, they'd been pretty pissed off as it was when he'd come home a month ago with a pet anyway--but Haemon, Zacharias' father, had told him that he'd have to take the spell off himself. Incentive, the wizard had claimed, but the infuriating smirk on his face had spoken volumes about Haemon's amusement over the matter.

When Harry reached the bottom step, his trunk hit the floor with a loud thud. Petunia screeched some sort of a reprimand from the kitchen. Harry just kept walking, heading though the front door, while Voldemort silently snickered from his shoulder. Or at least Harry _thought_ the jarvey was snickering; it was kind of hard to tell.

Harry knew he was fortunate have been able to talk Vernon into driving him to King's Cross Station, but that didn't make the ride any more comfortable. It was only him and his uncle in the car and they both were silent the whole time, purposefully ignoring each other. When the car jerked to a stop in front of the station, Harry barely even managed to pull his trunk from the car and close the door before Vernon drove off.

Harry kicked a small rock after the car and smirked when it hit the rear bumper with a satisfying _thunk_.

He then turned his attention back onto the train station and headed off to find cart for his trunk. He got a few odd glances directed at Voldemort, but that wasn't too surprising, considering that the jarvey was the size of a house cat. Harry glared at the few people who bothered to stare for more than a few seconds and they quickly hurried on their way.

The young wizard couldn't stop a grin from covering his face. Now he just had to wait for the students' reactions...

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"Harry," Daphne greeted quietly as she slipped into the train compartment.

Harry glanced up from where he'd been staring out the window to return her greeting in kind. After the whole house-elf fiasco he'd owled her, explaining what'd happened; not that he'd really needed to, considering how it'd been all over the news. They'd corresponded a few times over the rest of the summer, as had Zacharias.

"I hear that we have an ex-auror for our Defense professor this year," Daphne said suddenly.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, doubtless Dumbledore and the Ministry want to make sure we're particularly protected, what with last year's events and what happened over the summer."

"Yes," Daphne said while nodding in agreement. "It will be good for us as well; he shall doubtlessly know more about Defense than anyone else the Headmaster could get for the position."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could the compartment door opened once more, this time admitting Zacharias'. Daphne and Harry both stared at him.

"Uh, Zack..." Harry said slowly, still staring. "Didn't your hair used to be, you know...black?"

Zacharias grinned sheepishly and self-consciously ran a hand through his shockingly white hair. Daphne stifled a giggle behind one hand.

"Er, yeah," he replied. "I kinda had this accident with one of my father's potions. The color's supposed to fade in a few weeks, but until then..."

"I dunno," Daphne said with a smirk, "It's kind of-- roughish." The last part of her sentence came out strangled, revealing exactly what she thought. Zacharias threw her a mock-glare and slumped into his chair.

"Well it's better than _pink_ or something."

Both Harry and Daphne snorted into their hands.

A half an hour later the train was well on its way to Hogwarts. Harry had introduced Daphne to Voldemort, who was infinitely amused by the name and by the jarvey itself. Voldemort took to her astonishingly well, but seemed to be particularly vindictive towards Zacharias and even bit him when he got too close. The now white haired wizard just huffed and ignored him, cradling his throbbing finger, while the jarvey smirked from his spot on Daphne's lap.

The group's conversation was cut off when the door to their compartment suddenly slammed open. Standing there, glowering, was Draco Malfoy.

"_Potter_--" he began to howl.

"Not here," Harry interjected smoothly. "It's Tepes, remember?"

Malfoy's glare increased tenfold and vicious snarl rose up onto his face. "Don't you dare play that bloody game with me! Not after what you did--" he snapped, only to suddenly cut himself off. His gaze had drifted from Harry to Zacharias' hair. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" he asked incredulously.

To Harry's great surprise, Zacharias didn't huff like he would have expected. Instead the wizard smirked coolly and gazed at Malfoy with half-lidded eyes.

"Vlad sucked the life from me," Zacharias said, "Leaving my hair white as a testament to my survival."

The compartment went completely silent as Malfoy stared at Zacharias, caught between shock and incredulity. "But he-- he's not..." he trailed weakly off, glancing between Zacharias and Harry.

"It's alright, Draco," Harry said soothingly while patting Malfoy on the arm. "I can understand your confusion. The truth can get so muddled up sometimes. Now, what were you trying to say?" From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Zacharias was biting his lip, trying desperately not to laugh.

Malfoy managed to draw himself up to his intimidating height of 5'1" once more. "I was going to say that you...-- I mean Potter-- I mean...NO! That's it! I'm not dealing with this bullshit anymore!" He waved his arms around violently, once again worked up. "You. Are. Not. A. Vampire!"

Harry titled his head to the side and smiled brightly. "Nope!" he agreed. Malfoy faltered and then deflated, staring at Harry in shock. "But my godfather is a werewolf." Malfoy continued to stare at him, his mouth working soundlessly. Harry patted him consolingly on the shoulder and then steered him out of the compartment. "Have a nice day!"

And with that the door slammed shut.

For several moments no one said anything. Then...

"Your godfather is a werewolf?"

"No," Harry told Zacharias with a snort. "But _Malfoy_ certainly doesn't know that."

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Watching the Sorting Ceremony turned out to be far more boring than participating in it. But maybe that was just because Harry wasn't hyped up on adrenaline this time around. Either way, by the time the last name had been called out, Harry was practically falling asleep in his food.

"Hello Harry!" a cheerful voice suddenly called out.

Harry jerked awake and peered around blearily. "Who? What? When?" he asked before he could stop himself. He glanced around for moment before his eyes landed on a small first year sitting across from him. The boy had a round, beaming face and mousy brown hair.

"Hello!" the boy repeated eagerly. "I'm-- I'm Colin Creevey. I'm in Hufflepuff too. Just got sorted!" He reached out, grabbed Harry's hand, and began to shake it before the older boy could even open his mouth to reply. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement. "It's _amazing_ here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. Do you-- do you think that later, after the feast, I could take your picture? I've got a camera and a boy on the train said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll _move_."

Harry stared at Colin, his mouth gaping. Next to him Zacharias snickered quietly, but quickly quieted when Harry threw him a glare.

"Er, right," Harry said while shifting uncomfortably. Colin was literally bouncing in his seat while staring at Harry with open awe. Harry nearly snapped at the boy, when suddenly an idea crossed his mind. "You said you had a camera? You any good with it?"

Colin nodded fervently. "I've had it since I was little--my mum's a photographer."

"Hmm," Harry mused, repressing a grin, "I may just have a use for you, Colin--May I call you Colin?" The boy nodded again, beginning to resemble a bobble-head doll. Harry momentarily mused that it looked like the boy's head was going to fall off before quickly flicking the thought away, because he _just didn't care_. "Well then, Colin, how would you like to help me out?"

Colin leaned across the table, eager. This time Harry didn't stop the dark smirk from blooming across his face.

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Almost as soon as Harry stepped into the Hufflepuff common room that night, he was pulled aside by Professor Sprout. He waved Zacharias and Colin's concerned looks off and followed the witch into her office.

"I would like to speak to you about your potions grades, Harry," Sprout said once they were both seated.

Harry sighed silently. Great; this was _exactly_ what he wanted to deal with right now.

"You failed the class and your exam due to your lack of attendance," Sprout continued, oblivious to his annoyance. "Both Headmaster Dumbledore and myself are worried about this." She paused. "But I doubt that my words will have any affect on you."

Harry's head jerked up to stare at the head of his house, surprise. To his increasing shock, Sprout smirked--actually _smirked_!--at his expression.

"We Hufflepuffs may be diligent workers, Mr. Potter," she said, "But that does not mean that we are unobservant; quite the opposite in fact. I have seen your blatant refusal to attend Severus' classes. I can understand your reasoning, but, regardless, your actions stand only to hurt your own schooling."

Harry mouth open and closed silently a couple of time before he snapped it closed. Warily eyeing the older witch, Harry decided that there might actually be far more to her than he'd first assumed. Not that he'd ever had much of a chance to speak to her in the first place, but still...It seemed that she was far more intelligent than she appeared.

"What are you proposing?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Proposing?" Sprout reiterated, her lips once again quirking up to form a grin. "I'm not proposing anything. I'm informing you of your new class arrangements." Cold dread settled in Harry's stomach, but none of his frantic thoughts managed to stop the next words that fell from Sprout's lips. "In order to catch up with the past year of classes that you missed as well as to work on this year's curriculum, you will be attending private lessons with Professor Snape."

Oh _hell_ no.

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"Harry?"

"..."

"Harry?"

"..."

"_Haaaaaaaarrryyyyy_--"

Finally Harry slammed his book down onto the Hufflepuff table and glared fiercely at the person across from him. "What?" he snapped and many of the people around him drew back in shock and fear. The annoying young boy known as Colin only grinned however, not deterred in the slightest.

"Are you in a bad mood?" he chirped.

"Colin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Thankfully, Colin's mouth shut with audible click. That was one good thing about the boy's scary hero worshipping of Harry: he would do whatever he was told to do.

Harry sighed and rubbed one of his temples to stave off his growing headache. He was only putting up with Colin because having a kid with a camera who thought you were Merlin himself could be very useful. But that didn't make the boy any less annoying. Harry was seriously considering placing a silencing spell on the first year...As soon as he learnt how to cast it.

As Harry contemplated going to the library that evening to begin his researching of the spell, he suddenly groaned and let his head fall to the table with a thump. He couldn't go to the library that evening for the very same reason that he was currently in foul mood: He had private lessons with Snape that evening. And for every evening in the week. And for every week in the year.

"Just kill me now," Harry groaned.

Zacharias snickered. "Still lamenting over your schedule?" he asked. He tried to sound serious, but much of his amusement still leaked into his tone.

Harry turned his head just enough so that he could glare at the boy next to him.

"Well, look on the bright side," Zacharias quickly amended. "That's not until this evening. And we have Defense first thing, so we get to meet our new teacher next. Plus, when you do have lessons with Snape, you don't have to deal with a bunch other kids like we do. "You'll just...have Snape...all to yourself..." Zacharias couldn't help himself: he burst out into snickers.

Harry upped his glare a notch. "Stuff it, whitey."

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Harry first thought upon seeing their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was "What the hell happened to his face?". His second thought, upon registering the man's presence, was "Why is he standing behind me?"

With a yelp, Harry dove to the side and pressed his back against one of the castle walls. "What the bloody hell?!" he hissed. "Why the fuck were you sneaking up on me?"

The man stood in the entrance to the Defense classroom, right where Harry had been moments before. He had a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair and a face that looked as though it'd been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash and a large chunk of his nose was missing.

But what really made Harry stare was the man's eyes.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up and down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye--and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all Harry could see was whiteness.

"Constant vigilance!" the scarred man suddenly barked, causing Harry to jump slightly. "You attract too much interest, Potter, to not pay attention to your surroundings. Be more careful next time."

And with that the man continued on into the classroom while Harry gazed after him in shock. The man was limping and with a jolt Harry realized that there was a clawed wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes. It made a dull clunk every time he took a step.

_This_ was their new professor? Slowly a grin spread across Harry's face. He had a feeling that this year was going to be _interesting_.

Once the strange man was seating at the desk in the front of the classroom he took out a register and began to call out names. His normal eye moved steadily down the list while his other one--a magical eye, Harry assumed--swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present. "I am Alastor Moody, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. After the events that aspired here last year--" His mouth twisted into the mockery of a grin and both of his eyes landed on Harry for a split second. "--Dumbledore asked me to come here and teach."

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After dinner that night Harry literally dragged his feet as he walked down through the dungeons towards the potions classroom. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that if he didn't attend the class, Sprout would personally drag him there. And while the head of Hufflepuff was generally a sweet-tempered woman, one did _not_ want to make her mad.

At the end of what felt like a long funeral march, Harry stopped in front of the door to the classroom. The dark wood stretched above him as if mocking his impeding doom. Harry glared at it, stuck his chin out, and then yanked the door open--

--Only to yelp as he found Professor Snape standing in the doorway, glowering down at him.

"What the _fu_--?!"

"Language, Potter," Snape sneered.

"What, not taking any points?" Harry brooded. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked away from the older wizard.

"No." Snape turned on his heel and walked into the classroom, his cloak fluttering around him. Harry hesitated for a moment before following. "I highly doubt that you care about house points," Snape continued. "So I won't bother taking them, as it would be pointless. Instead, for every time you manage to piss me off, you'll have to spend another hour here."

Harry splutter, indignant. That was the one thing that he wouldn't be able to stand, and Snape knew it. "You wouldn't--!"

"I would. And you know it." Snape's smooth voice easily sliced through the air, silencing Harry's protests. He paused behind his desk and leaned over it to stare at Harry. "Listen up, Potter. Neither you nor I want to be in this situation, but as a teacher--" The sneer rose back up on his face. "--I am obligated to do so. Follow my orders and we will have no problems. We will get in and out of this classroom in as short a time as possible. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Harry bit out through gritted teeth.

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When Harry arrived back at the Hufflepuff common room, most of the students were still up. He quickly bypassed them and headed for the dorm rooms. Along the way he passed Zacharias and Colin and told them that he'd be down in a second.

As soon as he'd stepped into his dorm room, Harry dropped his book bag onto the floor next to his bed and released a sigh. Working with Snape was hell, no doubt about it, and the man didn't seem to be too glad about having to work with him through the entire past year's curriculum.

Unfortunately they were both stuck.

Harry considered staying in the room instead of going back out with everyone else, but ditched the idea after a moment. Colin at the very least would come looking for him and the whole situation would be more trouble that it was worth. The young wizard was just turning back around to the door when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that caused him to freeze in his tracks.

He raced out of the dorm room and bounded into the common room, causing people to stare in surprise. He was cussing up a storm while frantically looking around.

"Harry?!" Zacharias gaped at him in confusion.

Harry whirled around to face him. "I can't find him! His cage is empty and--"

"Potter!" one of the female Prefects bellowed as she pushed through the crowd. "What's going on? What're you talking about?"

"He escaped! Voldemort escaped! He was up in my dorm room, but he's gone now and I don't know where he is!"

"_What_?!"

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A/N:Thanks for all the response to the last chapter. A lot the reviews were really interesting to read.

With this chapter we begin delving completely in AU. I have some interesting things planned, but most of it won't start until Harry's fifth year. Speaking of which, Harry's second, third and _possibly_ forth years will go by relatively quickly. The main point of the plot will being in his fifth year, so everything until then is really just Harry growing up emotionally and magically. And it'll set up a lot of things too, of course.

_Shades of Gray_ won the poll by a rather large amount, however, so there won't be another update for at least a month. By then I'll probably be sick of working on SoG though, so doubtless I'll easily be able to churn out this story.

And finally, I've also recently started a yahoo group for my fanfictions. It'll act as an archive, but it'll also have posted some different information. If you have any questions about this story, please direction them there and I'll get back to you. Please check it out at: www(DOT)groups(DOT)yahoo(DOT)com/group/ShadowRebirthFanfiction

Thanks and please review!

--S.R.


	10. Chapter 10: The Return of the Schizo

Title: Searching for Disaster  
Author: Shadow Rebirth  
Rating: T/PG-13  
Warnings: coarse language, adult themes, spoilers  
Chapter WC: 1,002  
Story WC: 35,636  
First Written: March 3, 2009  
Last Edited: June 10, 2009  
Posted: June 10, 2009  
Summary: Owls, cauldrons, and pointed hats? Harry Potter was _not_ amused. And he still wasn't entirely sure that his human trafficking theory had been wrong. Warning! Features a very cynical Harry. AU, no pairings.

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Searching for Disaster

Chapter 10  
_The Return of the Schizo_

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Chaos. It was absolute chaos.

Harry reveled in it.

"...Don't you think you should stop them now, Harry?" Zacharias asked. Though the boy would never admit it, he was just as amused as Harry was.

"I could," Harry agreed, "But why help people when you can stare at them?"

Zacharias rolled his eyes, but did nothing to stop his own laughter. The currently white haired boy leaned back against the nearest wall and joined Harry in watching the students of Hufflepuff house running around like headless chickens, screaming about Voldemort's return. There were even a few young girls sobbing in a corner. Harry briefly wondered if there was something wrong with him because he didn't feel even the slightest bit of pity, but swiftly dismissed the thought.

After all, it was their fault for not taking the time to logically consider the situation.

"Really," Harry muttered to himself with a snort. "Like I would actually keep _Voldemort_ in my room. ...Though, that actually could be quite amusing. I could hang a cage from the ceiling and pelt him with Cheetos whenever I'm bored."

While Zacharias turned to stare at him like he was insane, Harry's eyes abruptly locked onto the fireplace mantelpiece on the other side of the room. He smirked widely and then strode over to it, ignoring the chaos around him.

"Voldemort!" he said brightly. Everyone around him froze. "There you are!"

Harry lifted the jarvey from where it'd been sitting on the mantelpiece. It struggled briefly before leaping on his shoulder and getting comfortable there.

"No kidding, you motherfucking shit for brains—"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Eh? What happened to the silencing charm?"

"All charms wear off after a while, remember Harry?" Zacharias answered. The young wizard unconsciously rubbed his hand while eyeing the jarvey on Harry's should as though it was going to attack him any second—which it probably would.

"Ah, of course. That must be how Voldemort got out; he just asked someone to open the door."

"Wait, hold on," a nearby Prefect said. She looked as though she was torn between disbelief and rage. "_That's_ the Voldemort you were talking about?"

Harry blinked innocently and shot her a faux confused look. "Well of course. What else could I have been talking about?"

And then he walked back toward his dorm room without a second glance, leaving a room full of shell-shocked Hufflepuffs to gape after him.

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"Have you heard?! Have you heard?!" Zacharias yelled as he came flying into the room, white hair flying every which way. He skidded to a stop in front of Harry, thrusting a newspaper into his face. "Narcissa Malfoy is getting divorced from Lucius Malfoy now that he's in jail!"

Harry glanced up lazily, one eyebrow cocked in question. "Yes, Zach," he said with a bored tone, "I've already heard about it." From Richard, his journalist contact, as a matter of fact.

Zacharias' face fell and he pouted, obliviously disappointed. "You _always_ know everything," he whined. "Why can't I surprise you with something, just this once?"

The dark haired wizard returned to his homework. "Maybe one day," he answered distractedly.

"_Come...come to me...Let me rip you...Let me tear you...Let me kill you..._"

Harry froze. Slowly he looked up from his book to stare at Zacharias, attempting to ignore the white hot flash of betrayal that pierced his chest. "...What the hell did I do to you?" he demanded.

The other boy gave him a wide-eyed look. "Huh?"

"_....soo hungry...for so long..._"

Zacharias' mouth wasn't moving.

"Huh." Harry's gaze flickered around, noticing that there was no one else in the library. "Hey, Zach, do you know if Hogwarts has any books on schizophrenia?"

"...Er, probably. Why?"

"No reason."

"...Right 'cause, you know, that's not random at _all_," Zacharias said sarcastically. "_Anyway_, I've got to get going because I have Potions next." The boy suddenly halted, mid-turn, and stared at Harry thoughtfully. "You know...I have to admit that I'm surprised that you're agreeing to take private lessons with Professor Snape. It just doesn't seem like you to cave in like that."

Harry shot him a surprisingly dark grin. "Who me? Caving in to Snape? I have no idea what you're talking about," he all but purred.

Zacharias' eyes narrowed. "What are you planning, Harry?" he asked suspiciously.

The Boy-Who-Lived released a small chuckle as his grin widened even further. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

With a snort, Zacharias finally turned away. "Yeah, we all believe _that_ bullshit," he commented. He waved lazily over his shoulder then and ambled out of the library, leaving a cackling Harry in his wake.

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It was mocking him.

He knew it was. It was just sitting there, oh-so innocently. Silently _mocking_ him.

"Are the Wrackspurts bothering you again?"

Harry started violently, jerking up from his chair. He tore his gaze from the book in front of him—no matter what he did it wouldn't move; he just couldn't get that damn banishing charm to work!—to stare at the small girl who had silently approached him. She had hair so pale it was bordering on white and was decked out in an odd assortment of clothing and jewelry, unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

Fortunately—for Harry—nothing managed to silence him for long. In just a few short seconds he regained his composure.

"Oh yes, _obviously_ it's the Wrackspurts," he replied sarcastically. Not that he had any idea what a Wrackspurt actually _was_.

The girl, however, only nodded serenely, completely unconcerned with his attitude. Her strange silver eyes had a distant look in them, as though she was looking through Harry instead of at him.

"Of course," she said softly, but entirely seriously. "They can be a nuisance sometimes, but they're entirely harmless. They seem to like you in particular though."

Harry found himself staring blankly at the girl. She was without a doubt the strangest person he'd ever met—and considering that they were in the Wizarding World, that was really saying something.

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A/N: ...Yeah...It's been what, almost eight months? (**winces**) Er, sorry about that. The delay was a combination of business, my other stories, and a case of writer's block—mainly because of Luna.

This actually isn't the complete chapter 10, but I want to post what I have so far to show that this story _isn't_ dead. None of my stories are unless I specifically say so. Once I finish writing this chapter I'll delete this and repost the completed one, so that those on the alert list will know of the updated version.

Anyway, ages ago, after the posting of chapter 9, a lot of people expressed their surprise over how easily Harry gave into those lessons with Snape. All I can say is, _really_? Knowing this story, do you _really_ think that Harry would give up that easily?

And finally, for those of you who don't know, I now have website up for info on all of my stories (and it also archives the stories themselves). If you'd like to take a look, here's the link: shadowrebirth(DOT)webs(DOT)com

Thanks for all of your reviews!

--S.R.


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